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Class _^__ 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



" Who comes not hither 

ne'er shall know 

How beautiful the World 

below " 

WORDSWORTH 



A TRIP TO THE LAND OF THE 
MIDNIGHT SUN 



. 


■ 


m 

m 
m 

M 

m ■ 


1 ii v " 


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1 ^ i 1 I 



/\.v/i/ Haakon, Queen Maud and Crozvnprin'ce 
Olav at their Palace in Christiania. 



A TRIP TO 

THE LAND OF THE 

MIDNIGHT SUN 



A NARRATIVE 
OF PERSONAL 
EXPERIENCES 



BY 

MARTHA BUCKINGHAM WOOD 



NEW YORK 
BRANDU'S 

1910 



-$Y> X% 



H\A 



Copyright, 1910, by 
Martha Buckingham Wood 



PREMIER PRESS 
NEW YORK 



CCI.A278445 



^ 



This book is most affectionately dedicated 
to the memory of my father 

Charles J. Buckingham 

in whose kindly care I made many happy 
journeys to distant lands. 



CONTENTS 



I. On Shipboard: Merriment and Happy- 
Days II 

II. At Christiansand : Facts and Jokes.,. .. 17 

III. The Climate of Norway: The Magic of 

Nature 25 

IV. Krokkleven: The View that Inspired 

Bjornson 34 

V. Flora and Vegetation : Beauty Speaks for 

Itself 49 

VI. A Satirical Dane: Boasting Norwegians. 55 
VII. Christiania: The Gate to the Country. . 63 
VIII. A Royal Dinner: The Crowing Waiter. . 69 
IX. Karl Johan: "The Gay White Way". . . 81 
X. The Women of Norway: Pioneer Suffra- 
gettes 89 

XI. At the Graves of Bjornson and Ibsen: 

Anecdotes .... .... 101 

XII. Saga Houses : The Environs of Christiania 

flaunt their joys 117 

XIII. Vagabonding: Enjoyable excursions. . . 129 

XIV. Northward Bound: In the Realm of Rocks 139 
XV. The Laplanders: A little Sweetheart. . . 151 

XVI. A Bit of Norwegian Mythology: The 

Charm of Youth 157 

XVII. The Marvelous Laplanders : Witchcraft 

and Wonderful Dreams .... 163 
XVIII. Tromso and Hammerfest : The Laps Per- 
form 177 

XIX. A Courteous Captain: Love for America. 183 
XX. The Midnight Sun: The Lure of Nature . 189 
XXI. A Unique Performance : Pigs at Sea . . ,. 195 
XXII. Trondhjem : A Town of much historical 

interest 201 

XXIII. Bergen : Some places worth seeing . . . 213 

XXIV. A Thrilling Journey: In the Kingdom of 

Greatness 229 

XXV. Back in Christiania: A Picnic. . . 251 

XXVI. Norwegian Youth: A Boat-Race Celebra- 
tion 281 

XXVII. At the National Theatre : "A Doll's House" 

and "Peer Gynt" 291 

XXVIII. The Norwegian Winter: An Exciting 

Ski-Match 301 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

King Haakon, Queen Maud and Crownprince 
Olav at their Palace in Christiania . . . Frontispiece 

Christiansand 19 

Sogn 27 

Romsdalen 46 

Dalen, Telemarken 51 

Karl Johan's Gade, Christiania's "Gay White Way" . 83 

Bjornson's Grave 105 

Saga-Houses, Bygdo 119 

Holmenkollen's Hotel. Oscarshal, Bygdo . . . .131 
Hammerfest's "Gay White Way." Torghattan . . 144 
Laplanders. A Lapp woman with her Child . . . 153 
King Haakon, Queen Maud and little Crownprince 
Olav, enjoying the midnight sun from the King's 

Yacht 193 

Bergen 215 

A Nordfjord Horse 226 

View of Voss Railway 231 

Vossevangen 232 

Stalheim Hotel, Nerodalen 233 

Nerofjord, Nerodalen 235 

Skjervet in Eide, Hardanger 237 

Tvinnefossen, Voss 239 

Loatefos, Hardanger 242 

A Hay-Rack, Hardanger 244 

Snow Tunnel (The Fourth of July) on the Bergen- 

Christiania Road 247 

The National Theatre, Christiania 293 

Fru Johanne Dybwad as Maria in Bjornson's Drama, 

"At Stovhove" 297 

Winter in Norway . 303 

King Haakon on Ski 305 

Queen Maud and Crownprince Olav on Ski . . . 308 



ON SHIPBOARD: 
MERRIMENT AND HAPPY DAYS 



CHAPTER I 

ON SHIPBOARD: MERRIMENT AND HAPPY 
DAYS 

EING of a sight-seeing turn of mind, 
and fortunately able to gratify my 
taste, I have visited many foreign 
countries. It was long a cherished dream 
of mine to see the "Land of the Midnight 
Sun," and at last I decided to take the trip. 
To think was to act. Upon a beautiful June 
morning, I embarked on the steamer United 
States, of the Scandinavian-American line, 
in command of a most efficient officer, Cap- 
tain WulfT, whose home is in Copenhagen, 
the gay capital of Denmark. 

The meals on board were served a la Scan- 
dinavian, and the dishes looked rather puz- 
zling to me. In this respect, one must take 
care not to judge a goat by its horns, as the 

13 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

Danes say. I found that to be a good 
maxim, as the dishes tasted much better 
than they looked, although it happened now 
and then that the horns were, to me at any 
rate, the best part of the goat, after all. As 
a rule, however, the cuisine was very good 
and the service excellent in every respect. 

There was a diverting brass band which 
played three or more times a day; and a 
string-band which performed with vigor 
and faithfulness every evening, far into the 
night, in the ladies' salon. Several times 
during the voyage, a dance was given on 
deck. On these occasions, one side of the 
ship was enclosed in tarpaulin, and 
decorated with the flags of many nations. 
Chairs were scattered about, so that those 
who wished to watch the merry dancers 
could do so comfortably. 

The usual recreations on board an ocean 
liner, shufTleboard, cards, and so on, were 
eagerly participated in during the day, espe- 
cially by the lively Americans, while the 



On Shipboard 

Scandinavians kept more to their cozy "cof- 
fee-corners." 

The great event, however, was the cap- 
tain's dinner, given the night before arriv- 
ing in port. The salon and the dining-room 
had been most beautifully decorated during 
the early morning hours, and the tables pre- 
sented a most pleasing appearance. 

Upon our ship were a number of distin- 
guished Scandinavians, Danes and Norwe- 
gians, who were to attend a national conven- 
tion in Copenhagen. The means they em- 
ployed to make the captain's dinner a fes- 
tival not soon to be forgotten, can better be 
imagined than described. Epigrams in all 
languages were composed for the occasion, 
some of them sentimental and touching, 
others, especially those contributed by the 
Norwegians, powerful and rather rough in 
their sarcasm. Those offered by the Danes, 
on the other hand, were mostly of a poetical 
character and, although witty, perfectly 
harmless. The part taken by the Swedes 

15 



The 1 .ami of the Midnight Sun 

was rather formal and polished, yet it made 
a good impression. 

Most of the speeches were given in a lan- 
guage I did not understand, yet I enjoyed 
every word, or to be more correct, every 
laugh, if one can call the Scandinavians 1 
way of expressing mirth, laughter. I would 
rather call it a splendid imitation of the 
roars of Norwegian waterfalls. Of course 
other nationalities were represented, and 
every one seemed eager to add his share of 
merrymaking in order to make the affair a 
huge success. 

After the dinner, a most enjoyable concert 
was given in the ladies' parlor, followed by 
a dance on deck, in which the captain took 
part with much enthusiasm. 

If one does not suffer from mal de mcr. 
and fortunately I was entirely exempt, this 
twelve days' voyage to Christiania, Norway, 
will be most thoroughly enjoyed. 



16 



AT CHRISTIANSAND: 
FACTS AND JOKES 







<0 




CHAPTER II 

AT CHRISTIANSAND : FACTS AND JOKES 

UR good ship made one stop before 
docking at Christiania. This was 
at Christiansand, a few hours' sail 
from the capital. 

Shall I ever forget that beautiful morn- 
ing, when we cast anchor a short distance 
from shore and I had my first glimpse of 
Norway and its beautiful evergreen hills? 
To stand on the deck of an ocean grey- 
hound on a bright day in June, as she slowly 
glides into the harbor of Christiansand, 
greeted by the dozens of small craft and 
pleasure-vessels, laden with flowers, fruits, 
and happy excursionists, was indeed worth 
the voyage across the sea. The clean look- 
ing town with its red houses from which 
many flags fluttering gayly in the mild sum- 
19 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

mer breeze, framed by flower covered 
mountains and hills is a sight not easily to be 
forgotten. And such flowers! The very 
atmosphere was ladened with the perfume 
of lilies of the valley, and glorious lilacs of 
a shade I had never seen before. We were 
soon completely surrounded by tiny boats, 
brightly painted and loaded with flowers of 
all imaginable shapes, sizes and colors. Blue 
eyed lads and lassies reached out their 
hands, offering their beautiful, sweet-scent- 
ed wares, with such a natural charm of 
manner that one is tempted to purchase 
from every one until all one's small coins 
are gone and one's arms are burdened. I 
pitied myself for not being able to under- 
stand their language; it sounded so inter- 
esting. 

"What are they singing?" I asked the cap- 
tain, as he passed me with an immense bou- 
quet of laburnum, glittering and shimmer- 
ing in the sun like a piece of magnificent 
fire-works. 

20 



At Christiansand 

"They are not singing," he answered 
laughingly, "they are talking." 

And so they really were. Yet it sounded 
so musical and so weird. 

The Norwegian language, unlike most 
others, has many words of exactly the same 
phonetic structure which are distinguished 
by emphasis only; and the distinction be- 
tween the sounds is made by a certain way 
of singing the words instead of speaking 
them. Thus every word has its own pecu- 
liar tune that could almost be set to music. 

The captain assured me, however, that 
theirs was the easiest language in the world, 
in fact it was so simple that a certain three 
words pronounced correctly and with suffi- 
cient feeling would enable anyone to be un- 
derstood and loved among the Norwegian 
people. That I was eager to learn these 
magical words goes without saying. The 
courteous captain was willing to teach me 
the words, but he absolutely declined to 
translate them. Nothing, he assured me, 
21 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

was like finding out for myself, and as noth- 
ing would be more helpful than a little 
practise, he advised me to try the three 
words on a youth, who was busy selling sou- 
venirs to an English diplomat. 

"Say!" I called down to the lad, "J eg el- 
sker dig!" 

The boy instantly looked at me, quite for- 
getting his customer. I repeated the magic 
words slowly and put almost as much feel- 
ing into them as the captain had. Lo! the 
lad blushed crimson, from joy I suppose, 
and such a smile as he gave me! Before I 
could utter another word he had, with plea- 
sant gallantry, handed me a bouquet of red 
mountain roses. 

"What did I tell you?" exclaimed the 
captain proudly, his face flushed with re- 
strained laughter. 

Still I was not quite convinced of the 

three words' magic power and promised 

myself to remember and give them another 

test. I still keep a pressed rose in my diary 

22 



At Christians and 

as a remembrance of a mischievous cap- 
tain and a Norse youth who had blushed at 
my words, "I love you!" 



23 



THE CLIMATE OF NORWAY: 
THE MAGIC OF NATURE 




C3> 

to 



Si 

O 



CHAPTER III 

THE CLIMATE OF NORWAY : THE MAGIC 
OF NATURE 

AT the dinner table that day, the Nor- 
wegian climate was discussed at 
length and I learned that Norway 
has a milder climate than any other coun- 
try in the same latitude. It is evident, how- 
ever, that one cannot expect to find a homo- 
geneous climate in a country which stretches 
through more than thirteen degrees of lati- 
tude. While the southernmost point lies on 
a parallel with northern Scotland, sur- 
rounded by a warm ocean, the northern- 
most point is in a latitude in which nowhere 
else on earth is found the abode of civilized 
people; where the cold, northern sea beats 
full on with overwhelming power, and, a 
few hundred miles further, lies eternal ice. 
27 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

The inner country is, chiefly, an enor- 
mous mountain ridge with glaciers and 
high snow peaks; but deep down amid the 
mass of mountains and close to the exten- 
sive snow fields, are the warm, narrow 
fjords cutting and winding their way 
through fertile valleys and flowery mea- 
dows. No wonder the climate differs so 
greatly from one district to another. At 
one place a heavy fur-coat is a comfort, 
while at another one wishes to dress in mus- 
lin all the time or even to go without clothes 
at all. 

The coldest tracts are of course in the 
high, mountainous districts of the interior, 
in Osterdalen, Trondelagen, Dovre and Fin- 
marken. The perpetual snow boundary lies 
at an altitude of six thousand feet in the 
Gausta, three to four thousand feet on the 
Folgefond, three thousand eight hundred in 
the Jotunheim, and three to four thousand 
feet on the Dovrefjeld. In the southern 
part of Norway the upland climate ob- 
28 



The Climate of Norway 

tains, with its hot summer and severe win- 
ter, especially well adapted for farming on 
account of the warm summer. In the west- 
ern part lies the coast region. Here the 
summer is cold but the winter very mild, in 
fact so mild that the mean temperature very 
rarely goes below zero. Soothing and heal- 
ing both to soul and body is the climate in 
the interior of the beautiful fjord districts. 
Here the summer is warmer than on the 
coast and the rain-fall is less pronounced. 
The banks of the fjords — covered with 
wild flowers on both sides, shelter from the 
cold northern winds. Altogether this pro- 
duces a wealth of natural wonders which no 
other country that I know of, equals. 

I saw orchards in Hardanger and Sogn 
with countless trees bending their branches 
under the weight of apples, pears and 
peaches, the sweet, delicious taste of which 
I never found the like. The growth of 
vegetation is exuberant and leafy trees of 
all kinds give these Norwegian fjord dis- 
29 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

tricts a certain southern character. Not 
since I visited Italy and southern California 
have I seen such a wealth of flowers as in 
the gardens of Bergen, Hardanger and 
Molde, the latter justly known as "The City 
of Roses." I found the northern part of 
Norway to be a mixture of upland and coast 
climate where the summer is cold and the 
winter mild, though raw on account of the 
strong wind. 

Even so far north vegetable life obtains in 
glorious profusion not to be found anywhere 
else on earth in the same latitude. 
The fjord banks in the interior are 
clothed with luxuriant birch trees and 
the fields are covered with radiant ge- 
raniums, dandelions, daisies and so on. 
Still more wondrous are the beautiful dales 
with the protecting but melancholy looking 
mountain-ridges on both sides. If a gath- 
ering of natives from different parts of the 
country met and gave an account of the 
vegetable world of Norway, the descrip- 

30 



The Climate of Norway 

tions would be as different and varied as 
the pictures in a kaleidoscope. 

There is a great contrast in climate be- 
tween the west coast and the eastern val- 
leys. The country in itself is high and 
broken, with open mountain fields and 
warm, well sheltered, inviting mountain 
slopes, sunny hills and shady dales. If one 
remembers that plants, more perhaps than 
any other organism, depend on the condi- 
tions offered by nature, it is easy to compre- 
hend the great difference in appearance of 
the vegetation in the various districts. 
Sometimes the scenery as well as the flora 
changes entirely as one crosses a mountain- 
ridge, and one finds one's self suddenly in a 
new country with its own peculiar scenery, 
climate and vegetation. 



3 1 



KROKKLEVEN: THE VIEW THAT 
INSPIRED BJORNSON 



CHAPTER IV 

krokkleven: the view that inspired 

BJoRNSON 

1 SHALL never forget the beauties of a 
place called Krokkleven. It was my 
first outing in Norway and the day 
was perfect. There are many ways of reach- 
ing this delightful mountain plateau and 
for any one having but a limited time to 
spare for Christiania, this is a tour not to 
be missed. I had an impression as I was 
standing at the "King's View" at Krok- 
kleven, that I was looking into several en- 
tirely different countries, each one with its 
own nature and individuality. 

As you gaze from the "King's View" to- 
wards Krokkleven and the heights on the 
other side of the beautiful Tyrifjord, you 
see nothing but evergreens, ridge by ridge, 

35 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

like magnificent mountain-high waves, 
mostly spruce, pine and fir, with occasion- 
ally a brilliant bouquet of birch and service 
trees. Then look down at the smiling low- 
land stretching beneath you miles and miles 
on both sides of the glittering Tyrifjord, 
and your eye meets luxuriant cornfields, 
now and then broken by a picturesque rock 
or a stony hill. Here and there a belt of 
spruce or fir frames in the rocks and some- 
times a wreath of leafy trees has taken upon 
itself to hedge around the hills. Here and 
there a group of whispering hazels catches 
your eye; and then again a beautifully ar- 
ranged garland of oak, cherry, lime and 
lilac, mixed with birch and service, indi- 
cates where the brooks and roads are wind- 
ing. Below the rock on which you stand is 
a mountain-morass, enwreathed by apple 
and cherry trees. In this hothouse made by 
nature herself, grow the rarest of plants and 
flowers, so rare in fact that one needs little 
imagination to dream of Southern Italy. 

36 



Krokkleven 

While I stood enjoying the magnificent 
view and the tremendous mountain-preci- 
pice, the wife of the president of a Norwe- 
gian agricultural school, who was visiting 
the place as chaperon to a couple of bright, 
mischievous Norsemaids, was kind enough 
to divert me by many a story about this fa- 
mous place. I learned among other things 
that it was this view which had inspired the 
late Norwegian poet Bjornson to write his 
introduction to "Arne." 

While at college in Christiania, he had 
been more fond of tramping in the woods 
than of study, and he seldom missed his 
week-end outing. It was on his first visit 
to Krokkleven that young Bjornson stood 
viewing the barren mountain precipice 
while a young fellow tramper unpacked the 
luncheon box. To his companion's despair 
he began to write the now famous introduc- 
tion to his novel "Arne," beloved of all Nor- 
wegian people, while his friend stood with 
hands clasped over a hungry stomach, wish- 

37 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

ing his poetical comrade to a place where 
pencil and paper were still unknown lux- 
uries. 

The fair maidens who were not entirely 
without knowledge of my language, in- 
formed me with much pride that their chap - 
eron had once been a distinguished elocu- 
tionist. They were kind enough to urge her 
to recite the Introduction for the American 
lady. I modestly added my voice to theirs, 
and after a short explanation of the piece, 
Fru H. mounted the rock on which young 
Bjornson had been standing the day he made 
his first crude outline of the beautiful piece, 
and recited the little story with such sim- 
plicity and so much natural feeling that it 
actually seemed to me like a piece of touch- 
ing music. It was as though a masterpiece 
by Grieg had been rendered in the midst of 
the grand spectacle that had inspired the 
master. I am tempted to give the story as it 
later was translated to me. 

"It was the Juniper, the Oak, the Fir, the 

38 



Krokkleven 

Birch and the Heather who took it upon 
themselves to clothe the barren mountain 
side. The Juniper led the way. Before 
long he began to slip. 

" 'Catch hold of me,' said the Heather. 
Juniper did so, and where there was only a 
tiny crevice the Heather put in a finger, 
and where the Heather once put a finger in, 
there the Juniper worked in his whole hand. 

"On they clambered, upward and upward, 
the Fir slowly following them, and the 
Birch laboring after. 

" 'It's God's own work,' she said and went 
on. The mountain began to wonder what 
sort of live creatures it could be that were 
clawing and creeping up, and sent down a 
little Streamlet to investigate and report. 
It was in the spring-flood days, and the 
Streamlet rushed on till it became a big 
laughing brook and 'Hi, hi, hi! Ha, ha, 
ha, Ho, ho, ho!' she hurled Heather and 
Juniper, and Fir and Birch flat on their 

39 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

faces, and pell mell over the craggy boul- 
ders. 

"'Pluck up your heart, Children!' said 
the Juniper and went on, and after a while 
they all began to jog along again, and be- 
have as if they had never tumbled down in 
their life. The Birch had made her dress 
very dirty in her fall, but she got up and 
brushed off the earth, and went on, grow- 
ing more and more, right up over the 
Mountain side, in sunshine and in rain. 
Then came the day when the Heather got 
one eye over the edge of the Mountain wall. 

"'Oh! How lovely, how lovely!' she 
cried, and on she dashed. 

" 'Dear me,' said Juniper, 'what can it 
be that Heather sees?' and she pushed on 
till she too could take a peep over. 

"Oh! How beautiful!" burst from him, 
and he, too, sped on and vanished. 

" 'What's up with Juniper to-day, I won- 
der?' said the Fir, making long, quick 
strides beneath the burning summer sun. 
40 



Krokkleven 

Presently he stretched up on his toes and 
peeped over. 'Oh how glorious! How 
glorious!' he cried, all his leaves and 
prickles standing on end with amazement. 
He struggled up over the ledge, got a firm 
footing, and was off after the other two. 

" 'What in the world can it be they all see 
up there that I can't?' cried the Birch, lift- 
ing her skirts daintily, and tripping after 
them. She got her whole head above the 
edge at once. 

" 'Oh, look, look! if there's not a great 
wood of Firs and Heather and Juniper and 
Birches upon the Common there waiting 
for us! Oh dear, oh dear!' cried the Birch, 
shaking her leaves in the beautiful sunlight 
till the dew-drops trickled sparkling off. 

" 'Yes,' said the Juniper, 'that's what 
comes of going on!'" 

And Fru H. repeated, "Yes, Children, 
that's what comes of going on!" as she 
stepped down from the stone. 

Her interpretation of the piece was to the 

4i 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

effect that Bjornson was the Juniper who 
aroused his countrymen to love, courage and 
endurance. The harsh Mountain was Nor- 
way; and the Fir, the Oak, the Birch and 
the Heather were the intelligent farmers, 
the good school-teachers, clergymen, poets 
and all the self-denying educators of the 
country; but the wily stream represented 
evil power and those who sowed discourag- 
ing thoughts in human hearts. The glori- 
ous meadow and the great forest of healthy 
trees was the reward, the heavenly fore- 
shadowing of a united, free and independent 
people. 

The younger of the two blue-eyed maid- 
ens, Astrid by name, now climbed the stage, 
and with flowing hair and outstretched arms 
recited in fair English Bjornson's poem 
from "The Fisher Maiden": 



42 



Krokkleven 

My land will I defend, 
My land will I defend, 
And my son, to help its fortunes and be 
faithful will I train; 
Its weal shall be my prayer, 
And its want shall be my care, 
From the rugged old snow mountains to the 
cabins by the main. 

"Now you, Aagot," said Fru H. to the 
other girl, after the sucessful descent of 
Astrid. But Aagot looked blushingly 
about. 

"Aagot," repeated the chaperon, "it's 
your turn." 

She arose, mounted the rock gracefully, 
and with a modest bow to her audience de- 
livered tastefully another poem by their be- 
loved Bjornson: 



43 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

"LiOVCSt thou I'"! i>i<\ 

I will e'er love thee, 

All my days on earth, so fondly, 

Short were summer's days, 

Now the flower decays, 

Conns again with spring so kindly." 

"Give us another one from 'A Happy 
Boy,' said Fru H. with an encouraging nod. 
The young girl could not recall any other, 
but I'm ll. was not so easily rebuffed, ami 
after a little coaxing the girl finally recited 
ilus one: 

"What you suiJ hist year 

Still rings in my ear, 
As 1 nil alone <n>/ silting, 
J nd your thoughts do try 

In my heart to fly. — 

Picture life in sunshine flitting." 

Other poems by Bjornson to which Grieg 

hail set music were Sung, To the surprise 

and delight of the trio 1 was able to accom- 
44 



Krokkleven 

pany them by whistling the airs of the songs. 
Fru I J. put the finishing touch to the im 
provised entertainment by recalling another 
piece from Bjornson: 

"Love thy neighbor with Christian zeal! 
Crush him not with an iron heel, 

Though he in Just he prostrated, 
Love's all powerful, quickening hand 
Guides, forever, with magic wand 
All that it has created." 

In returning, a giant rock pulpit was 
climbed, from where we had a magnificent 
view over a mighty forest. Fru H. did not 
seem to share my enthusiasm, as her home 
was in Oslenlalcn, which she assured me is, 
and always will be, the forest valley of Nor- 
way. As I was standing here looking over 
the miles and miles of forest I could not but 
think and speak to Fru TI. about the life 
that is lived in these vast forests that cover 
the country. 

45 



77/r Lnii J of the Midnight Sun 

"In addition to farming and cattle-rear- 
ing, forestry plays a greatei pan in Oster- 
dalen than in any other part of Norway," 
1 was informed, "The forests here arc not 
much to speak about. No, come with US to 
Osterdalen, and you will see something 
greater than even California can boast of!" 
was the enthusiastic assurance from the vig- 
orous chorus standing around me, The for- 
ests in Fru H.'s home really, as I learned 
while resting here, had been better pre- 
served in former times than the forests in 
many other places. They were far from 
ports, ami when they were felled, they gene 
rally grew again. It was only higher up on 
the mountains that they gradually died out, 
either because die telling was too wholesale, 
or because the smoke from the mining works 
choked the young trees. 

Winter is the forester's time in Norway. 

The sound of the axe begins to be heard in 

the autumn, and the tall trees fall one by 

one. The branches are then removed, and 

4 6 




Romsdalen. 



Krokkleven 

the bark, and the trunks arc cut into the 
right length. When this is done, the wood 
cutter waits for snow and hard frost to drive 
the timber to some lake or river, where the 
logs are laid in long rows called "lunns" to 
be marked with the special mark of each 
timber-owner. During this time the tim- 
ber-drivers live a strenuous Life in the forest 
with their surefooted, faithful, wise little 
horses. They sleep in little huts, where the 
snow keeps them as warm as any wall. In 
the Spring the timber is floated down to the 
mighty river Glommen and on to the wide 
districts north and south of Oiern lake, 
where it is sorted by the purchasers. 

The wood-cutter's life is a toilsome one, 
but that of the river-driver is excitingly 
dangerous as he springs about upon yield- 
ing, floating rafts and logs. 

At last the sun set, and we reluctantly de- 
scended the rock, and commenced our re- 
turn to the capital. 

47 



FLORA AND VEGETATION: 
BEAUTY SPEAKS FOR ITSELF 







^ 



q 



CHAPTER V 

FLORA AND VEGETATION : BEAUTY SPEAKS FOR 
ITSELF 

1HAVE written at length about this my 
first excursion, in order to give a true 
survey of the lowland vegetation that 
exists almost everywhere in southern Nor- 
way. Later I can confine myself to the daily 
experiences and occurrences as I travel from 
place to place in this interesting "Land of 
the Midnight Sun." 

In southern Norway also one is often sur- 
prised by long sandy areas of big fleshy 
plants with brilliant colored flowers. Here 
rocks and slopes are overgrown with a cer- 
tain kind of pale-blue copsewood or some- 
times a peculiar hawthorne mixed with a 
sharp tall-growing heather-like plant. 

Beyond the region of the more susceptible 

Si 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

leafy trees one enters the realm of the pine- 
wood which is the undisputed ruler up to 
two thousand feet or more. Above this belt 
is the kingdom of the proud Norwegian 
birch. Before my travel in Norway I 
thought birch was birch and spruce was 
spruce, but I soon found out my mistake. 
There is the so called lowland birch with its 
spotted rugged bark, tall stem and sharply 
pointed leaves, and the mountain-birch with 
its white smooth candle-like stem and round, 
chubby, irregularly draped dress of toothed 
leaves. The kind which is growing in the 
lowland has about the same extension as 
the oak or the hazel, and is rather suscep- 
tible to the cold, while her cheerful moun- 
tain sister does not object to her long season 
of crystalline garb. 

"When I feel blue and out of spirits," 
said a Norwegian painter to me, "I put the 
paint box on my back, and with staff in hand 
and a piece of cheese in my pocket I ramble 
away to the home of sweet sister birch." An 

52 



Flora and Vegetation 

old Norwegian farmer, brought up in 
North Dakota, once told me that the realm 
of the birch was looked upon by the pea- 
sants of Norway as God's own temple. The 
birch gives as well as consumes, light; that 
is why her home is always the sweet abode 
of fragrant flowers. 

I wonder if any one who has stepped into 
the quiet of a Norwegian birch-slope on an 
early morning in June ever can forget the 
solemnity of the vision. The delicious vel- 
vet grass covering the smooth ground and 
the wealth of tiny trembling ferns fluttering 
towards their bigger relatives, create a 
sensation beyond words to describe. And 
who can ever forget the coquettish flirting 
of the gigantic forget-me-nots? 



53 



A SATIRICAL DANE: 
BOASTING NORWEGIANS 



CHAPTER VI 

A SATIRICAL DANE: BOASTING NORWEGIANS 

A DANISH - AMERICAN friend 
once told me with a touch of satire, 
that I "would find everything big 
in Norway; much bigger in fact than it 
really is." 

I thought of this and of the ironical smile 
which accompanied it 2 as I sat in one of 
those birch-slopes at Ringerike, caressing a 
forget-me-not almost as big as an American 
penny, and wished that I could have thrown 
the flower at that skeptical Dane. In one 
thing, however, I agree with him. The 
Norwegian people do enjoy talking about 
themselves. There is simply no end to their 
enthusiasm for the grandeur of their coun- 
try. 

The Norwegian men of letters are of 

57 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

course the most famous in the world. The 
praise of their artists is touching, and no 
other nation on earth is half so independent 
as they. Their king, too, is the most demo- 
cratic ruler ever heard of^ and the queen, 
the loveliest woman, the best mother 
and the smartest house-wife on earth. 
Little Olaf, the precious crown-prince 
of the land; is certainly the pet of all 
the royalty of Europe, and there is no reason 
at all why Kaiser Wilhelm's only daughter 
shouldn't wait for him, though she may be 
ten years older. If not, King George the 
Fifth of England has a beautiful daughter 
of the marvelous prince's own age, and so on 

. Still I am not quite willing to agree 

with my Danish friend in terming their un- 
restricted praise as a mere habit of boasting. 
A Norwegian's praise of his country and 
compatriots is like a loving child's praise of 
its mother, and is expressed with such inborn 
simplicity and so much natural grace and 

58 



A Satirical Dane 

open heartedness, that the boast is a harmless 
one. 

"To boast like a Norseman" is a common 
by-word in Sweden and Denmark, and 
many an inoffensive tale is told about them. 
A Danish singer and actor, returning to 
the royal theatre in Copenhagen after tour- 
ing the Danish settlements in America, was 
full of jokes about Norwegian braggardism. 
Whether through lack of common sense on 
my part or bad translation on his, I cannot 
say, but most of his jokes were far beyond 
me. He, however, enjoyed every one of 
them immensely, and as his teeth were pretty 
and his laughter rather musical, I didn't ob- 
ject in the least to act the part of an admir- 
ing audience, by laughing pleasantly in the 
wrong places. But he did not mind this so 
long as I enjoyed myself. Once it happened 
that I was able to catch the point of his joke 
and to join genuinely in the mirth. 

The joke I caught ran thus: The son of 
a famous Norwegian came to Copenhagen 

59 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

and was met by the director of the Royal 
theatre, who at once took him to the Thor- 
valdsen's museum, the pride of every loyal 
Dane. 

"Well what do you think of it?" the di- 
rector at last asked with genuine national 
pride. 

"Did you ever see Lake Mjosen?" was 
the Norseman's counter question. (Lake 
Mjosen is the largest sheet of inland water 
in Norway, about sixty miles long and ten 
wide, and surrounded by beautiful scenery.) 
Later, in their sightseeing trip about the 
town, the Danish director made a halt at a 
very large and modern-looking building, 
pointing it out to his guest as the new lunatic 
asylum. 

"Ugh! Come to Norway, my boy," cried 
the Norseman, enthusiastically, "and I'll 
show you the biggest lunatic asylum in the 
world!" 

The Norwegians, however, do not hesi- 
tate to pay back their jokes to the Danes 
60 



A Satirical Dane 

with interest, and many a pleasant hour was 
spent on board in listening to the always 
good-natured war of wits between the sons 
of the sister nations. 



61 



CHRISTIANIA: 
THE GATE TO THE COUNTRY 



CHAPTER VII 

christiania: the gate to the country 



f~~| ~^HE approach to Christiania is so 
I beautiful it must be seen to be ap- 
preciated. I noticed as we entered 
the port that we were about to pass what 
appeared to be four large Norwegian forts. 
As we came nearer and nearer I discovered 
that they were immense galvanized iron- 
tanks, painted white, upon which in large 
black letters was Standard Oil Co. Al- 
though quite protecting and home-like I 
pitied helpless nature for these surely un- 
asked for decorations. 

Christiania, the capital of Norway, and 
the royal residence, is situated upon the 
beautiful Christiania-fjord. To me it is an 
ideal city. The streets are wide and very 
clean. In the parks with their elegant large 

65 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

trees, under whose leafy branches most com- 
fortable seats are placed, with beautiful 
beds of flowers everywhere, I passed many 
delightful hours. 

Although in comparison with many other 
Norwegian towns, Christiania is a young 
place, founded as it was in 1624 by King 
Christian IV, beneath the walls of Akershus 
Fortress, it is not without historical associa- 
tions. The old fortress is now undergoing 
restoration, and in a few years' time will 
have regained the form it had when King 
Christian himself marked out the streets of 
the town. 

Before the founding of Christiania, Oslo 
lay on the other side of Bjorviken, with its 
churches, the bishop's residence and its me- 
morials of the Roman Catholic time. In 
the new quarter, Oslo, the old bishop's resi- 
dence, is still preserved, now called Oslo 
Ladegaard. In it, in 1589, King James VI 
of Scotland, the son of Mary Queen of Scots, 
was married to a Dano-Norwegian princess. 
66 



Christiania 

Remains of Dominican and Franciscan 
monasteries are to be found in the Oslo Hos- 
pital and Church, and in the present bish- 
op's residence. One building of Christian 
IVs time and style is still standing, the old 
garrison infirmary, near St. John's Church. 
Otherwise, Christiania is altogether a mod- 
ern town, bearing the imprint of the latter 
half of the eighteenth century, although 
buildings such as the old military academy 
and the royal palace, recall the palmy days 
at the close of the previous century. 

Christiania now has about a quarter mil- 
lion of inhabitants. There are many fine 
residences and hotels, the latter furnished 
with every comfort. The stores are large 
and quite modern. There are several lines 
of street cars, and one finds also, any number 
of automobiles. In Christiania I took my 
first drive behind one of those delightful 
ever gentle and sure-footed Norwegian 
horses, which though quite small in stature 
are persevering. My driver, a sturdy Nor- 

6 7 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

wegian, told me he could speak "a little 
English," and I'm sure I spoke far less of 
his native tongue, but we managed to get 
along, so I didn't think of employing the 
captain's exorcism "Jeg-elsker-dig" on him 
— and I'm glad I didn't. Yes, we managed 
to get along splendidly. However, I admit 
I was surprised when he suddenly asked 
me, "if I had ever heard of a town called 
Chicago." He was very proud of his horse 
which possessed what seemed to me a rather 
epicurean taste, as it enjoyed eating a nice, 
rare beefsteak and drinking beer more than 
anything we usually consider equine delica- 
cies. 



68 



A ROYAL DINNER: 
THE CROWING WAITER 



CHAPTER VIII 

A ROYAL DINNER I THE CROWING WAITER 

IN traveling through a foreign country, 
unless one speaks the language or has 
an interpreter, many amusing inci- 
dents, and sometimes, I may add, discom- 
forts, may occur. Upon my arrival in 
Christiania I went to a hotel, which was 
very prettily situated facing a lovely park. 
The building was unpretentious and had 
rather a home-like appearance. I entered, 
and was met by a porter speaking Norwe- 
gian only who ushered me to a room where 
a woman was seated at a desk. She arose as 
we entered and addressed me in very fair 
English. I secured a room and then learned 
she did not serve meals. What was to be 
done? I was more hungry than I ever re- 
membered to have been in my life, and so 

7i 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

went out to see if I could discover a restau- 
rant. 

After some time I found one which was 
neat and gave the impression that the food 
served might prove to be tempting. A wait- 
er appeared smiling gleefully, and I ad- 
dressed him in three languages, but they 
proved of no other avail than to change his 
smiling good natured face into one of dark 
despair. He spoke only Norwegian. Fi- 
nally I picked up a menu and glancing over 
it, my eye rested longingly upon a word that 
to me had something of the word "chicken" 
in it. Immediately I motioned to the wait- 
er, who had withdrawn to the desk-corner, 
where he stood whispering with the cashier, 
a powerful Norse woman. He came over, 
and seeing at a glance what I wanted, bowed 
politely and began to flap both arms giving 
a long "Coo-koo-oo!" That noise was fa- 
miliar to me, and although it didn't sound 
like the crow of an American rooster or the 
cackling of a hen, I felt nevertheless at ease. 
72 



A Royal Dinner 

Maybe we could get along with that lan- 
guage after all I thought, and smiled thank- 
fully to indicate my satisfaction and admi- 
ration of his voice. Away he went like a 
flash, seemingly proud of his knowledge of 
English. 

I waited over an hour before anything in 
the line of chicken or anything else arrived. 
In the meantime my appetite had greatly 
increased, and I wondered when that chick- 
en did crow last and what size it would be. 
Then it came! In size and appearance it 
was all right; beautifully cooked and 
served — but the taste! Oh, the taste! Shall 
I ever forget it! I learned afterwards that 
he had served me a crow. I selected some 
other things out of the rather pretentious 
bill of fare, but the waiter, who had lost his 
head entirely, began to serve the whole bill 
from the very top to the bottom. How I 
wished in my embarrassment that all my 
friends could have been with me and par- 
taken of my unintended luxurious Norwe- 

73 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

gian dinner. "Well," I thought to myself, 
"if you ever again try out those magic words 
the captain taught you surely the right oc- 
casion is at hand," and in order to stop the 
unending shower of queer dishes, I said, 
imitating the captain's voice and expression 
as near as possible, "Jeg-elsker-dig!" 

Evidently not believing his own ears, the 
waiter gave me a long, never to be forgotten 
look and then with a peculiar whispering: 
"Ha" (No, it was not a laugh; he just 
meant "what") he stepped nearer. 

I repeated the sentence. The effect was 
tremendous indeed. He simply flew out of 
the door, blushing and smiling, returning 
with another carload of dishes. As I arose 
and looked about for my bag, wondering 
whether I had money enough with me, my 
eyes fell on the cashier. To say she was 
frowning at me would be to flatter her too 
much. She looked simply furious, and I 
promised myself never to use the magic 
words to any man in the presence of a wom- 

74 



A Royal Dinner 

an, and I have kept my promise ever since. 
I'm glad of it. I thought after this experi- 
ence I would never again go to a Norwegian 
restaurant, no matter how hungry I was, but 
leave the hotel where I now stayed and go to 
one where meals were served. Such a place 
I found, by the help of Bennett's tourist of- 
fice, in the Grand Hotel, a modern and a 
most delightful hostelry. 

When I came home to my lodging, the 
landlady with the fear of losing her best 
roomer, took me into her private parlor. 
What is coming now, I thought? 

"Are you fond of music?" she asked, as 
I stepped over the threshold. 

"Oh, yes" I replied relieved, "very!" 

"Well, then I will play and sing for you 
every afternoon and night," she said, as 
though she had willed me half a million 
dollars. 

"Thank you!" I replied. 

Seating herself at the piano she said: 

"I have an American piece which may 

75 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

please you that I will sing every night." 
Opening the music sheet I saw the title: 
"Ever of Thee." 

"Have you ever heard it before?" she 
asked me. 

"Oh! yes!" I answered. She began to 
sing and I, musician that I am, sat and lis- 
tened. Where in the musical vocabulary 
can I place that voice? It was a terrible 
combination of soprano, contralto and fal- 
setto. My! Would she ever finish singing? 
When near to exhaustion, she did, and I was 
still breathing. It is strange how much we 
can endure before giving up the ghost. 
Turning to me she said, "I hope you were 
pleased with my singing? Do you want that 
American piece repeated?" 

What could I say? However, I man- 
aged to get my expression of appreciation 
collected enough to say: "Madam, who was 
your teacher? You certainly have a very 
powerful voice!" 

"Oh! I am so glad that I have pleased 

76 



A Royal Dinner 

you!" she replied, and in order to show her 
delight she insisted on singing "Ever of 
Thee" once more, although I pleaded with 
her, telling her that it would affect my 
nerves too much to hear the dear song once 
more, so far from home. But, although I 
looked at the clock on the wall with eyes 
that a dog would pity, she repeated the 
piece. 

She wasn't quite so pleased with me the 
next morning when I told her I was going 
to move. I must have seemed ungrateful, 
to say the least, for she tried hard to make 
me pay for the concert by charging me a 
month's rent for the room. In this she was 
not successful, however, as I, carefully 
enough, had taken the room by the day. 

I might easily have avoided this unpleas- 
ant acquaintance if, immediately on my ar- 
rival in Christiania, I had sought the advice 
of Mr. Bennett. My experience with this 
fatherly gentleman and his trusty son is such 
that I most heartily agree with the enthusi- 

77 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

astic traveler, who, after a pleasant journey, 
sent Mr. Bennett, the following poetical ef- 
fusion : 

"If Norway, like Melrose, you'd visit aright 
And go where there's hardly a pottle of 

night; 
Where the salmon and waterfalls strive for 

the lead 
And the ponies are sturdy and hardy in 

breed — 
Take an old man's advice and by no means 

omit 
To send Bennett a line ere you pack up 

your kit. 

"If you'd know where to go, where to sleep, 
where to stay, 
Where to travel by night, where to journey 

by day, 
That the most you may see in the very best 

way, 
Without nuisance or fuss or the risk of de~ 
lay — 

78 



A Royal Dinner 

First call upon Bennett and ask his advice 
Which he'll give you for nothing! That's 
cheap at the price! 

'In summer or winter, in sunshine or snow, 
While skiing or fishing or taking a row, 
He'll help you to everything — make it 

quite plain, 
And will lend an umbrella, I'm sure, in 

the rain. 
So be you a clerk or a lord of the Senate, 
You'll always do well to rely upon Ben- 
net" 



79 



KARLJOHAN: 
"THE GAY WHITE WAY" 







"Q 
Q 
^ 






CHAPTER IX 

KARL JOHAN : "THE GAY WHITE WAY" 

KARL JOHAN'S Gade, the "Gay 
White Way" of Christiania, is a 
broad and beautiful boulevard end- 
ing at a hill on which stands the royal palace 
surrounded by a beautiful park. Here re- 
sides King Haakon, Queen Maud, and 
Crownprince Olav, a small but sturdy lad. 
The university buildings and the National 
Theatre stand facing one another, while 
farther on is the Storthing or Parliament 
Building. Behind the University is the 
Historical Museum; and close to it stands 
the Art Museum, with its small but intense- 
ly interesting collection of sculpture and 
painting. 

The Norwegian artists seem to take their 
vocation very seriously > for their work has 

83 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

the unmistakable keynote of suffering and 
gloom. Sinding, Taulow, Gude, Kittelsen, 
Wernskjold, Krogh, Munch and Shredsvig 
are especially well represented at the Mu- 
seum and there is much in these canvases to 
interest an American visitor, even though he 
may not be a judge of the fine arts. 

Many of the new names are evidently 
striving toward still undiscovered heights. 
It must be hard for an artist in a poor little 
country like Norway > to succeed even if he 
chooses to follow the trodden paths, to say 
nothing of those who try to break into new 
fields. However, when the result of ridi- 
cule, misjudgment and endless struggle is 
such heart stirring art as some of the pic- 
tures in this little gallery exhibit one cannot 
help bowing the head to so much evident 
self-denial, and to an energy and perseve- 
rance not easily understood by a casual ob- 
server, 

In the University garden, near the chemi- 
cal laboratory, are the three exhumed Viking 

8 4 



Karl Johan 

ships safeguarded in wooden sheds. One 
cannot help wondering at this carelessness 
of a people who seem to trust to common- 
sense more than to Providence. Farther off, 
on the corner of St. Olaf's Gade and Aker's 
Gade, in a most beautiful building, is the 
Industrial Art Museum. Here the collec- 
tion of modern tapestry designed by native 
artists from historical events in Norway is 
especially interesting as are the old silver 
bowls, drinking horns^ hunting weapons, 
and such curios. 

Between twelve and two o'clock, a mili- 
tary band plays on a music-stand erected in 
the Studenterlund near the National The- 
atre. During these pleasant hours the pretty 
Karl Johan's Gade wears its cosmopolitan 
cloak, and reminds the onlooker of a great 
fairy garden where large and small flower- 
beds are grouped promiscuously. A crowd 
of whispering, chattering, laughing people 
from all lands is gathered here. Men, wom- 
en and children are seen arm in arm stroll- 

85 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

ing about in the Studenterlund or up and 
down the bright boulevard. Some are stand- 
ing in laughing groups, others sitting on 
the benches alongside the grove, but 
whether sitting, standing or walking the 
keen enjoyment of the musical midday- 
siesta is plainly to be read on every face. 
There are warm handshakes, responsive 
glances and expressive gestures everywhere. 
Buoyant laughter is continually heard roll- 
ing like distant thunder over the great 
mass. 

I cannot say, however, that I was espe- 
cially impressed by the beauty of the Nor- 
wegian women, but am willing to agree that 
the somewhat negligee air about them is 
quite refreshing. I must admit that their 
brisk ways and arrogant manners didn't al- 
ways strike me as unfeigned, especially dur- 
ing the daily promenade on Karl Johan's 
Gade. They are, taken as a whole, far from 
chic and do not display any inborn feminine 
taste for dressing to their individual advan- 
86 



Karl Johan 

tage. Their unchecked, deafening stream of 
talking, especially when in the presence of 
men, was to me like a roaring waterfall, to 
say the least. 

I am now especially speaking of the wom- 
en of the two largest cities, Christiania and 
Bergen. The latter differ in their ready 
wit and liveliness from the former's heavi- 
er and more manly type. I have had a fair 
chance to mix with those two types and to 
study them at close range, having seen them 
in the streets, in stores, at big official affairs 
as well as at their private gatherings. I 
have joined in their outdoor sports, in their 
home-life, and to their credit I must say 
always to have found them trustworthy and 
honorable. Still I want my opinion of the 
Norwegian women as here briefly ex- 
pressed, to be taken as a traveler's bird's- 
eye view only. Not that I didn't meet mod- 
est, ladylike and highly intellectual women 
and lovable mothers among my Norwegian 

87 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

sisters; indeed I did, especially in the small 
towns and in the rural districts. 

What I have said about the nature and 
climate of Norway may be said about her 
people. They differ in looks and manners 
as does nature herself. In one part of the 
country you find the inhabitants tall and 
stately, with long bony faces, dark hair, big 
blue eyes and a serious and searching ex- 
pression. Cross a mountain ridge or two, 
and you will be surprised by meeting an en- 
tirely different type of people, short of sta- 
ture with round faces, dark hair, dark com- 
plexion, brown eyes 1 and of a cheerful dis- 
position. The Norwegian peasants are as 
a rule a reserved, cautious type, with pro- 
nounced self-control, and conduct them- 
selves remarkably well ; the men with strik- 
ing dignity and the women with charming 
modesty. 



88 



THE WOMEN OF NORWAY 
PIONEER SUFFRAGETTES 



CHAPTER X 

THE WOMEN OF NORWAY : PIONEER 
SUFFRAGETTES 

IT is immensely interesting to listen to 
Gina Krog, Ragna Nilsen and others 
of these dauntless pioneer women 
speaking of their fights, with many a hearty 
laugh at mistakes and foolish actions. Jokes 
and anecdotes are told good-humoredly 
about the so well ended war. The women 
of Norway can well afford to take a good 
laugh at themselves and to forgive the harsh 
words showered down upon their heads 
from the now conquered enemy, the strong- 
er sex. 

It is not so many years ago since the 
women of Norway began to peep into the 
social and political questions of their coun- 
try. It happened one day that a woman by 

9i 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

the name of Camille Collet began to ponder 
about some lines in the Norwegian National 
hymn: 

"Norway, Norway, 
Gentle or harsh, 
You are our hope, 
The land of the future." 

After deeply considering for awhile, she 
began to ask herself if these pretty lines 
were true in every sense of the word. "The 
land of the future/' thought this wise 
woman, must be a land of liberty, peace and 
justice. The very land all of mankind, 
women not least, are dreaming about and 
yearning for. A country, entirely ruled by 
men can never be called our country in the 
true sense of the beautiful word, but a coun- 
try of men ruled by men, for men alone. In 
these simple lines by Bjornson quoted above, 
the shibboleth was found. "We must make 
Norway our country, and that means a coun- 
try ruled by women as well as by men." 
92 



The Women of Norway 

These words spoken by Camille Collet 
and others fell on fertile soil, and so it hap- 
pened that the gentle winds of a newborn 
spring blew over the mountains of Norway 
and brought along with it the living seeds 
from a woman's heart and thought to thou- 
sands and thousands of small homes. We 
know now from what has happened in Nor- 
way that the seed sown had a remarkable 
life germ. They accumulated and took root 
in sound and thoughtful minds for the good 
of the bearers of future generations. 

It was not legislation that Camille Collet, 
the first woman of Norway that ever dared 
to lift her voice for the independence of her 
sisters, spoke about. No, she spoke merely 
of the feelings of the human hearts and 
souls. She spoke for the hearts of women, 
their devotion and sacrifices ; spoke with all 
her intelligence and enthusiasm, and with a 
warmth and convincing power that not 
alone overcame all prejudices, but awak- 
ened, though slowly, the great minds who 

93 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

were to take the task of emancipation on 
their shoulders. Miss Collet was a remark- 
able woman in more than one respect. Many 
are the stories told and retold about her. 
Thoughts and deeds that other people 
looked upon as something great and broad- 
minded, she considered small and selfish, 
while that which looked small and selfish to 
others seemed often great to her. In the 
erotic relation between man and woman, 
she claimed that the woman should rule, be- 
cause she had the precedence of the inspira- 
tions of the soul. 

It is very intelligible that the women of 
Norway bless the memory of this great pio- 
neer. I presume that many of my country- 
men who have heard of her work and how 
she stood alone fighting martyrlike and fear- 
lessly against the whole universe for the full 
rights of women, will join in praise of this 
remarkable woman. 

Camille Collet knew that a woman's emo- 
tions were the only superior quality that the 

94 



The Women of Norway 

stronger sex would grant. These feelings 
were not always respected ; often they were 
trampled into the dirt, and choked to death. 
The right to love, was a right the Creator 
had granted to women; not to love after the 
prescription of a man's demand, but after 
their own soul's law. This was the first out- 
cry, the first slogan of the woman's question 
in Norway. 

There was another lonely but strong-im- 
pressioned woman among the suffragette 
pioneers, that will always live in the his- 
tory of Norway. This is Froken Asta Han- 
sten, who has spent several years in America. 
Froken Hansten was once a noted artist and 
during her first stay in Boston she painted 
among other celebrities, Longfellow, at 
whose house she was always a welcome 
guest. This remarkable and admirable 
fighter under the banner of the Skirt Regi- 
ment, gave up her art and everything dear 
to life, to throw herself, body and soul, into 
the work for the rights of women. She 

95 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

stepped forth about twenty years later than 
Camille Collet and founded her campaign 
on a religious basis. To her religion was the 
life nerve of the woman question. Her war- 
cry was: "Give us liberty to believe what 
the divinity within our souls teaches us to 
believe. Give us the right to love accord- 
ing to our own personalities and not by di- 
rections and compulsion. We will also have 
the right to think our own thoughts and 
bring them forth to develop our abilities; 
the right to choose our work, and to take 
part in all social conditions." This was her 
demand, and from now on the slogan was, 
"Show us justice!" That Asta Hansten has 
created history in her country is sure enough 
and her doings and great deeds are common 
topics at woman's meetings. 

She was, so goes her posthumous fame, 
more undaunted, more rough in her ways 
and as strongly built as any man in her com- 
munity. She was not afraid to cry out the 
naked truth on the streets when she met one 

9 6 



The W omen of Norway 

of the so-called pillars of society. She 
seemed to know their rottenness and was not 
afraid to show them a mailed fist if they 
gave her the opportunity. Often when 
royal audience was refused, she placed her- 
self in front of the castle, standing there pa- 
tiently hour after hour, gazing at the win- 
dows in a mute prayer for justice. There 
is no doubt that the late warm-hearted king 
of Norway, Oscar II., received her as often 
as he dared, and always listened with 
interest and warm sympathy to this learned 
woman of noble birth. She was hated, per- 
secuted and scoffed at, and but for her birth, 
education and a few influential friends 
would have been exiled. 

In those years of severe combat, Asta 
Hansten was always seen with a dog whip 
in her hand, in order to protect herself from 
the terrible and revengeful mob. And she 
was not afraid to use the whip. It happened 
once while she was giving her powerful 
speeches at a public park, that she suddenly 

97 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

stopped short, covered with rotten eggs, 
jumped down from her bench and used her 
whip undauntedly and with manly fortitude. 
Although her simple homemade black 
dress often looked more yellow than black 
while lecturing, she never changed it nor 
washed her face until the day's work was 
done. With this great-hearted woman, 
whose memory the whole country now hon- 
ors with thankfulness and esteem, did the 
women of Norway forsake the individual, 
for the social question. Froken Hansten 
awakened them and showed that the only 
thing to do was to unite and hold together 
through thick and thin, and work with and 
for themselves. Froken Krog, the well 
known editor of the Norwegian Magazine 
"The Nylande," to whom I owe so many of 
my points about the fights of the pioneers, 
goes so far as to say that all kinds of social 
work rightly belong to woman, because, as 
she says, the community is only to be looked 
on as a home; a home on a large scale. It is 

9 8 



The Women of Norway 

not the clothes but the brains that make the 
difference. Let whomsoever the crown fits, 
wear it. All the sufferings, needs, terrors or 
despairs the world is still sighing under can 
be lightened only by educating the minds. 
The hearts of mankind must be thrilled with 
the light of love rather than fear before 
righteousness and goodness can shine and 
bear fruit. 



99 



AT THE GRAVES OF IBSEN AND 
BJORNSON: ANECDOTES 



CHAPTER XL 

AT THE GRAVES OF IBSEN AND BJORNSON: 
ANECDOTES 



MY interesting acquaintance from 
Krokkleven, Fru H., kept her 
promise and called on me one af- 
ternoon after my return from a trip to beau- 
tiful Holmenkollen and its surrounding 
places of interest. 

She suggested a trip to the graves of 
Bjornson and Ibsen, and although I was ra- 
ther filled to overflowing with impressions 
from my day's excursion, I was not reluctant 
in accepting her kind invitation as I could 
hardly find a more interesting or better in- 
formed companion. 

While walking through the beautiful 
cemetery, my friendly guide told me about 
having met the favorite niece of the late 
103 



the M t Sun 

Bjornstjerne Bjornson that day, and what 

she had related about her (anions ancle. The 
sincere grief of the people for the recent 
death of their beloved uncrowned monarch, 
Bjornson, was indeed touching. One could 
scarcely take a step without being pleasantly 
reminded in one way or another of their love 
tor him. 

"Bjornson had such a warm heart, his 
niece told me," began my companion, in a 
musical, subdued voice, "that he wouldn't 
hesitate to take even his clothes and give 
them to a poor creature. When one of those 
who had been elose to him died, Ibsen, 
Grieg, Taulow or his mother, his grief was 
without bound and he was pitiful to look 
upon. His love for birds and animals was 
almost as great as his love for human beings. 
It happened once at his estate, 'Aulestad,' 
that a little bird had built its nest and was 
hatching elose to the main entrance. 'The 
bird must not be disquieted in its mother 
duties, 1 was the great man's command, and 
104 




oq 



At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 

they were all, large and small, forbidden to 
enter that way. There were many notable 
guests at Aulestad at that time, both princess 
and dukes, but they had all to bend their 
heads and use the kitchen entrance. The 
bird was not to be disturbed." 

The master's niece had told her further 
that the day Bjornson's death was an- 
nounced, she had gone to his mother's grave, 
and while busy decorating it in the National 
colors, a tall, serious looking man came to 
her side without uttering a word. 

When the decoration was finished, he had 
asked if she knew where the great Bjornson 
was to be buried. She had replied that it 
was not decided as yet. The stranger smiled 
and informed her that Bjornson had select- 
ed his own burial place. On her request, 
he had then introduced himself as the in- 
spector of the cemetery^ saying in explana- 
tion, that he had once accompanied her un- 
cle to the grave of Ibsen. On this occasion, 
the great poet had gazed at his friend's rest- 
105 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

ing place for a long time and had then 
walked toward a big poplar standing near. 
He had paused for awhile in silence, then 
turned about with a strange smile that spoke 
plainer than words: "Here will be my final 
resting place." 

Her conversation with the inspector at the 
grave of Bjornson's mother was immediate- 
ly retold to Fru Karoline, the widow, and 
to her oldest son Bjorn, the former director 
of the National Theatre. The place for his 
grave was then decided upon at once. Sure- 
ly he could hardly have selected a more fit- 
ting abode than this beautiful and solemn 
spot. 

That Bjornson had a high estimate of his 
own genius and always looked upon himself 
as the greatest among the great of his coun- 
try is a fact the Norwegians do not try to 
conceal, "But," they say, "there was a rea- 
son!" And so there is. 

While a little child, barely able to climb 
the table, his favorite place, he became so 
1 06 



At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 

seriously ill that his parents had no hope of 
his recovery. As there was no physician in 
their community and no way of getting any 
from the nearest town, his mother sent a 
messenger for Wise-Knut, a famous seer and 
faith-healer. To the parents' despair the 
man returned without Knut, who sent the 
message to the sorrow stricken mother that 
her child would not die. 

"When he dies," Knut had said to the 
messenger, "entire Norway will be in 
grief." 

This the mother afterward related to her 
boy, and that Bjornson remembered well, 
and with pleasure, the wise man's prophesy 
was often proven by his hints to it. 

Another peculiar occurrence that Bjorn- 
son looked upon with much pleasure, hap- 
pened in his twenty-second year. In com- 
pany with some other college boys from 
Christiania he had participated in the great 
Upsala College procession, when a young 
girl forced her way through the almost im- 
107 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

penetrable throng of people and without the 
slightest hesitation placed a laurel wreath 
on his head. She did not search her man out 
from among more than five thousand col- 
lege boys, but went unhesitatingly to him as 
though he were the only man present. Why 
him more than the others? This incident 
young Bjornson considered a good omen 
and a dedication to his poetical vocation. 
From that very moment he knew his path, 
and never did he waver or doubt his God- 
granted gift. 

"How different he was from Ibsen," said 
my interesting companion, in her musical 
voice, as we stepped over to Ibsen's grave. 
After seating ourselves on a bench she con- 
tinued, 

"Ibsen, with his gloomy and pessimistic 
temperament, differs from Bjornson's sunny 
disposition as much as two men living in 
the same land, age and general environment 
possibly could." She thought a stranger 
could easily read their characters out of the 
108 



At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 

appearances and positions of their graves. 
With the imagination of a Norwegian I 
might have been able to read quite a lot 
from the arrangements of the two earthen 
mounds, but as I am not endowed with any 
such special gift I preferred to listen to my 
amiable and well posted guide. While the 
glorious sunset changed into twilight or 
more correctly speaking, into a new subdued 
color scheme, she continued her Ibsen an- 
ecdotes : 

"It was one of Ibsen's peculiarities," Fru 
H. began, as she took a long reverend look 
at the master's grave, "to take his daily glass 
of beer regularly at a certain table reserved 
for him at the Grand Cafe. The whole town 
knew of this habit and tourists immediately 
upon their arrival in Christiania were in- 
formed by the travel-bureaus that at one 
o'clock Ibsen would appear. Consequently 
the Karl Johan street was thronged with 
people of all creeds and colors eager to 
take a look at the Norwegian sphinx. 
109 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

When, punctual as clock-work, he appeared 
with hands clasped tightly behind him, 
moving slowly step by step down the street, 
the tourists scrambled and clicked their 
cameras and did not hesitate to even stop the 
traffic in order to get a choice snapshot at 
this town's biggest curiosity. 

"It must have been annoying to the old 
man," I could not help but remark. 

"Yes, but he stood it bravely for the sake 
of his country," answered my friend enthus- 
iastically. "He knew I suppose that he was 
Christiania's star attraction and the source 
of the people's prosperity. Once, however, 
when an English Bluestocking took a pair 
of scissors from her bag and cut a handful 
of hair from his shaggy mane he became 
very angry and threatened to leave the city 
for good and all. Since that incident Ibsen 
was somewhat guarded from that kind of 
vandalism." 

"It may not be so pleasant to be famous 
after all," I again interrupted, 
no 



At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 

"Well," was her ready answer, "you may 
be right in that madam, but he didn't mind 
it when it meant being kissed by pretty girls ; 
but he did hate to be clipped and hugged by 
those silly English women." 

That Ibsen could be malicious in his re- 
bukes when irritated, is shown by another 
little incident that took place at the Grand 
Cafe, a few days after his homecoming from 
a more than twelve years' exile. One night, 
a captain in the Norwegian army passed the 
Cafe in the company of two ladies, who ap- 
parently were not of the captain's day-light 
acquaintance, when he noticed Ibsen sitting 
at a table. Boastingly he asked his com- 
panions if they would like to be introduced 
to Herr Ibsen. If they would! They 
were overcome by the mere thought of such 
an honor. The captain promptly marched 
in with his ladies and soon stood in front of 
the master's table. 

"How do you do, friend Ibsen? Glad to 
in 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

see you home again!" was the captain's jo- 
vial greeting. 

Ibsen, annoyed, looked up from his paper 
without uttering a word. 

"Don't you recognize me? We met at 
Marienbad a couple of years ago," contin- 
ued the captain, intimately^ and after in- 
troducing himself anew proceeded, "Gee, 
we had a gay time! Didn't we, doctor?" 
Ibsen didn't move a muscle, but stared at 
him, sphinx-like. 

"I want to introduce you to the misses — " 
the captain began undaunted, but was im- 
mediately interrupted by Ibsen's retort: 

"Wait a moment, please!" Then, turn- 
ing to one of the waiters 2 Ibsen went on : 

"Please find a vacant table for these peo- 
ple?" 

The captain made his exit with his ladies 
even more quickly than he had entered, and 
the famous man went back to his beer in 
peace. 

"Yes, he could hit the nail on the head 
112 



At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjbrnson 

when he wanted to, and hit it pretty hard," 
said Fru H. laughingly^ again ready with a 
story demonstrating Ibsen's ready wit and 
sarcasm. 

"One day 2 so goes the story, Ibsen was 
driving with his secretary, when he met 
Herr Fritjof Nansen, the explorer, who was 
out walking. Without any ceremony Nan- 
sen beckoned to the driver to stop, then went 
to the carriage to greet his famous compa- 
triot. Ibsen looked about seemingly an- 
noyed, as though something had happened 
to the horses or the driver. There was noth- 
ing else for Herr Nansen to do, but to pro- 
ceed on his walk 2 without having gained the 
desired conversation. He thought, of course, 
that Ibsen, poor fellow, had not recognized 
him, feeble as he was at that time. How- 
ever, Nansen had scarcely left before Ibsen 
turned to his secretary and asked him, with a 
satirical smile playing about his mouth, 
if that tall, gray-clothed gentleman was not 
a certain Herr-Herr-Herr-Hansen or Nan- 

"3 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

sen who once had searched for something he 
couldn't find." "You see," Fru H. ended, 
respectfully, "nothing counted with him but 
full success." And then she continued, "At 
a banquet held in honor of Ibsen's seventi- 
eth birthday at the Dagmar Theatre in Co- 
penhagen, the director, after Ibsen had en- 
tered into the spirit of the celebration, had 
the courage to discuss several subjects with 
him and ended by asking Ibsen how he 
could say, 'That man is strongest who stands 
alone.' 

" 'Have I ever said such a thing?' asked 
Ibsen, very much amazed. 

"Now it was the director's turn to look 
amazed. 

" Why, yes 1 of course you have,' he an- 
swered. 

" 'My dear director,' said Ibsen, calmly, 
'when and where did I say such a thing?' 

" 'In your drama "The Enemy of the 
People" of course,' answered the director 
confused. 'In that splendid drama of yours 
114 



At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 

Dr. Stockman says "that that man is strong- 
est who stands alone.' " 

"A broad smile covered Ibsen's coMnte- 
nance, as he answered. 

" 'Oh, Dr. Stockman! How can you hold 
me accountable for all the stuff and non- 
sense that man says?' 

"Ibsen didn't like to discuss his works 
with anybody, not even with his wife. 
Also in this respect he differed greatly from 
Bjornson, whose remarkable insight into a 
woman's life, his understanding and true in- 
terpretation of her, are attributed to the 
wise influence of his wife. Not a single 
book, scarcely an essay even, left Bjornson's 
desk for publication without first having 
been edited by Fru Karoline Bjornson." 



ii 1 5 



SAGA HOUSES: 

THE ENVIRONS OF CHRISTIANIA 

FLAUNT THEIR JOYS 




=0 



!H 







CHAPTER XII 

SAGA HOUSES: THE ENVIRONS OF 
CHRISTIANIA FLAUNT THEIR JOYS 

HRISTIANIA is a hot place in sum- 
mer, especially during July and 
August. The early morning hours 
are, however, delightful, and so are the eve- 
nings. To make a few day's stop in Chris- 
tiania during these two months was former- 
ly most dreaded by travelers, but not since 
the wise but slow-going Fathers of the City 
opened the gates to this town's greatest at- 
traction, its beautiful and refreshing sur- 
roundings. Now small steamers ply among 
the numerous picturesque islands in the 
Christiania Fjord, at frequent intervals dur- 
ing the day. 

In the first place comes Bygdo, which 
may be reached by boat in twenty minutes, 
119 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

or by car and ferry in half an hour. Here 
is the Norwegian Folk Museum, with its 
large historic collections arranged as an 
open-air exhibit. One of the old buildings 
is the timber church of Gol, Hallingdal, 
which was bought and presented to the out- 
door museum by the former King of Nor- 
way, the late Oscar II. It is the. oldest and 
the prettiest of all the Norwegian Stave- 
churches from the middle ages. The wood 
carvings are very rare and wonderfully well 
preserved. It belongs to the octagonal 
style and has no pillars in the width. 

Many of the old and extremely interesting 
Saga-Houses of Norway have been pre- 
served and removed to Bygdo. The best 
preserved, although the oldest, of these 
abodes for small kings and Vikings is called 
the Raulandsstuen. It was removed some 
years ago from the province of Numedal, 
and belongs to the same type of log-houses as 
are seen to-day in the rural districts of Nor- 
way. 

1 20 



Saga Houses 

The interior of the house was usually di- 
vided into four rooms by two cross-walls 
and a floor, the largest being without a ceil- 
ing. Adjoining this main room, were two 
smaller oneSj the lobby and a little den, and 
above these two a loft-room. The little den, 
commonly reserved for the mistress of the 
house, was used as a storeroom for cakes and 
other tit-bits. The little room above this 
was set aside as a spare room for highly hon- 
ored guests. 

It is believed that the difference between 
the house from Numedal and those used by 
the kings and wealthies, is very slight. Some 
of the original contents have been remark- 
ably well preserved, and this of course adds 
greatly to the value of the house, as it tells 
the history of Norway's progress in civiliza- 
tion. 

The broad door posts are carved and dec- 
orated with Romanic brankursine motives, 
and above is to be read in Runic inscription : 
Torgautfifil mik gerpi; which has been 
121 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

translated to read Torgaut Fifil gjorde mig 
(Torgaut Fifil made me). Torgaut Fifil 
must have been either the name of the wood- 
engraver, the owner of the house or the 
builder. 

In the room are still the solid built-in 
benches, and what may be counted as a still 
greater antiquarian curiosity, the original 
table, with its heavy weight and clumsy 
carved legs. In the middle of the floor is 
the open fire place and above this is the 
square smoke-hole called "Ljoren," serving 
as an exit for smoke as well as an entrance 
for light. From the lobby one enters the 
little loft room where the old bedstead is 
still kept in its place, though sadly worm- 
eaten. 

On the gable end of the building's second 
story, is the remnant of an open gallery. 
This evidently once reached all the way 
down and around the front. Besides the 
main building, the storehouse or loft un- 
doubtedly played a most important part on 

122 



Saga Houses 

an old Germanic farm. Here all the valu- 
ables were stored, gold, silver, and all kinds 
of holy-day garments, not to mention the 
big stock of wool and textiles, besides dried 
fish, meat, cheese, butter and many other eat- 
ables. To this well closed and unapproach- 
able depository, the solitary key was to be 
found on the mistress' belt. On account of 
this fortlike measure of precaution, highly 
esteemed guests slept here. 

The Sagas speak much about these store 
rooms or lofts. In the middle-ages the loft- 
house was often connected with the dwell- 
ing-house by a tunnel or by an overbuilt 
bridge. They were sometimes the abodes 
of the women-folk and their belongings. 
This of course lends to them a certain poeti- 
cal or romantic air, and many a thrilling 
tale is told about these ladies' bowers of the 
middle-ages. 

There are many typical loft-houses to be 
seen all the way from the thirteenth century 
down to our times. This peculiar structure 
123 



The Land o[ the Midnight Sun 

as seen here at Bygdo, has been removed 
from Bolstad, Sondre Fron, and is said to be 
the most representative type from the mid- 
dle-ages. It looks very big with its broad 
ornamental porch, and has one room in the 
first and one in the second story. The small 
windows along the gallery are Romanic, 
and the gallery ends in a little secret room, 
the lady's bower. 

On this island, too, lies Bygdo Kongs- 
gaard, King Haakon's summer residence. 
Not far from here is the little summer pal- 
ace Oscarshal, a chateau de plaisance, built 
by Oscar I. It is beautifully situated on a 
small prettily wooded hillside overlooking 
both the fjord and the town. It is not used 
as a dwelling, and visitors who are inter- 
ested in old paintings may here have a 
chance to see some old canvases, especially 
a series of ten scenes by the celebrated Nor- 
wegian artist Tidemand, depicting "The 
Norwegian Peasant's Life from the Cradle 
to the Grave." The best known is the last 
124 



Saga Houses 

and the best of the series, and portrays a 
venerable couple, seated alone on a bench at 
a large table, the man reading to his aged 
wife from a large family Bible. 

It is hard to say which trip, of all the 
easy excursions which may be enjoyed, is 
the prettiest, because they are all so different 
in their character and beauty. One of the 
most convenient excursions that can be made 
from Christiania, is by a steam yacht, which 
is specially run to convey visitors to the nu- 
merous picturesque islands. It accom- 
plished its round in about three hours; time 
I found well spent indeed. 

There are many surf-bathing establish- 
ments in Christiania Fjord with restaurants 
close by. Many of these inviting and re- 
freshing sea-baths can easily be reached in 
a few minutes by electric car, train or by 
boat. If mountain air and magnificent 
views are preferred, take a trip to beautiful 
Holmenhollen, a large wooded park, situ- 
ated about six miles from the city, and 

I2 5 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

twelve hundred feet or more above the level 
of the sea. This place, as well as the near- 
by Frognesateren, fourteen hundred feet 
above the sea level and Voksenkollen, seven- 
teen hundred feet, can be reached part way 
by trolley, zig-zagging up the mountain in 
less than an hour, and the remainder of the 
way by carriage. 

From the many beautiful points of view 
in this vast estate of needlewood, one can 
spend a day in cool comfort. From view 
towers one has a grand sight in every direc- 
tion. The Christiania valley presents itself 
from those towers as a charming, smiling 
panorama, with broad fields, a shining, glit- 
tering fjord, and blue hillsides. From an- 
other point one has a magnificent view of 
hill and forest, situated so near the town, 
that they give it a strength and health that 
few other communities possess. The hills 
on the north and east are also exceedingly 
pretty in their many shades of blue. The 
Homenkollen Tourist Hotel is a magnifi- 

126 



Saga Houses 

cent structure in old Norwegian style, with 
a dining-room which is especially attrac- 
tive, not only on account of the excellent 
viands provided, but also owing to the view 
from its windows, and the charming, rustic 
and national character of its adornments. 
In the upper floor are bed and sitting rooms 
with balconies affording bewitching views 
of the valley. 



127 



VAGABONDING: 
ENJOYABLE EXCURSIONS 




Oscarshal BygcL 




Holmenkollcn's Hotel. 



CHAPTER XIII 

vagabonding: enjoyable excursions 

THE newly built royal Sport- Villa, 
most charmingly situated near the 
Voksenkolien Hotel, is a gift to the 
beloved King by popular subscription. Even 
the inhabitants of the poor-houses were not 
prevented from contributing their mite to 
the King's gift. The money was quickly 
collected and a very beautiful Sport-Villa 
erected, in the old Norwegian style of the 
thirteenth century. The heavy logs are 
stained a beautiful light brownish color, 
while the slate-roof is an attractive red. The 
roof over the broad veranda is of grass-turf, 
on w T hich a couple of small Norwegian 
spruces, representing the king and queen, 
are planted and seemingly thriving. 

It is strange that little Prince Olaf was 

I3 1 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

not remembered in this family group. Per- 
haps it was because a suitable little spruce 
could not be found in all the kingdom, or 
else that he was ; in himself, so much an idol 
of the Norwegian people that a memento 
seemed superfluous. 

The prettiest portion of the whole build- 
ing is the carved main entrance, leading in- 
to a comfortable hall. The furniture is 
modern and looks ugly and out of place in 
the mediaeval building. Very tasteful and 
characteristic friezes decorate the rooms, 
and a beautiful panoramic view from the 
veranda and upper rooms adds to the attrac- 
tiveness of the villa. 

St. Hanshangen is a pretty place for an 
early morning walk. It is a small hill situ- 
ated within the boundaries of the town, at 
the summit of which a reservoir has been 
made to supply the water for the Capital, 
the water being drawn from the lake system 
of the neighboring district of Maridalen. A 
very charming panoramic view of the city 
132 



Vagabonding 

and surroundings may be had from here, 
and a look through the telescope and col- 
ored glasses, which are kept in the tower, is 
interesting. 

Sarabraatan, situated about seven miles 
to the east of Christiania and twelve hun- 
dred feet above sea, is a most enchanting 
little place. I found the latter part of the 
journey especially to be most delightful, 
and gained a fine view from the summit, 
over big forests, fields and mountains. 

Another excursion which no one will re- 
gret, even though his stay in Norway's capi- 
tal may be limited, is to the historical Bids- 
void, a few hours' comfortable ride by train 
from Christiania. 

The old stately town hall itself is a fine 
old manor-house built of wood and dating 
from the latter half of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. The building is of interest chiefly on 
account of its being a national museum to 
commemmorate the Norwegian Fourth of 
July. It has now become the property of 

133 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

the nation, and it is certainly with a feeling 
of respect and admiration that one enters 
the assembly-room in which the constitution 
of May Seventeenth, 1814, was made. It 
was in this solemn looking hall that the con- 
stitution of new Norway was laboriously 
drafted and signed by twelve men, the very 
best of the country. After the act was per- 
formed, the men arose, joined hands and 
swore to "Stand together harmoniously and 
loyally until the fall of Dovre!" (The 
Dovre mountain is Norway's Gibraltar.) 

The simple wooden benches on which the 
honored representatives of the people sat 
around the solid plank table are no more, 
but the walls are decorated with portraits 
of the twelve venerable liberators. It is 
quite interesting to study these energetic 
physiognomies. Cleverness, determination 
and self-confidence, mingled with hope and 
fear, are the most salient traits to be read 
in those stern faces. 

While at Eidsvold remember to take in 

134 



Vagabonding 

Mjosen, the largest sheet of inland water in 
Norway, a lake of much varied beauty. I 
made the round of it on one of the tiny plea- 
sure boats plying its broad, glassy surface. 
Comfortably seated in my chair, I enjoyed 
to the full what has fascinated so many be- 
fore me ; the sombre beauty of the wood-clad 
Skrai-mountains, the large undulating corn- 
fields with the glorious Norwegian blue- 
bottles waving a beaming welcome toward 
us. While the little steamer plows lazily 
forward, cultivated mountain sides with 
bright colored farm-houses catch one's eye. 
It is a wonder how they manage to keep 
from dropping down into the lake from 
their dizzy heights. Once I caught a most 
peculiar sight of some farmers who were 
hoisting large heaps of hay down a moun- 
tain by means of a heavy wire. 

I do not wish, however^ to give the im- 
pression that Lake Mjosen is surrounded by 
the highest mountains or the most expansive 
fields. On the contrary, although the Skrei- 

*3S 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

mountains are majestic enough and some of 
the fields quite large, they cannot be com- 
pared to the colossal ones I have seen in 
other districts of Norway. Still the pleas- 
ant combination of mountains, hills and well 
cultivated fields, with their bright, rich- 
looking dwellings has a charm entirely 
unique, and fully justifies a little chapter in 
its praise. 

In the middle of the lake lies a large 
island with numerous pretty bits of scenery. 
On the west side is the heavy, broad Skrei- 
mountain; on the eas^ not far from a little 
town called Hamar A rises the imposing sum- 
mit of another mountain, Hestbjorkampen. 

The town of Hamar 2 which is the seat of 
the bishop and the civil governor of the dio- 
cese, has about six thousand inhabitants. On 
the shore of Mjosen is the extremely beauti- 
ful ruin of an old cathedral, whose semi-cir- 
cular arches are clearly visible as one sails 
northbound. The ruin is located on the 
outmost point of a tongue of land made by 
136 



Vagabonding 

two small fjords. The church is said to have 
been destroyed during the Swedish invasion 
in 1567, the Scandinavian seven-years' war. 
But here as elsewhere^ I was informed, that 
the dwellers in the district have done more 
damage to the exquisite remains than has 
the hand of the enemy. Fragments of stone 
from the ruins of Hamar Cathedral may be 
found in the foundation-walls of out-build- 
ings in the adjacent farms. The battered 
structure lends a peculiar interest to the 
surroundings of the lake not only on account 
of its rare lofty beauty, but also in its his- 
torical and mystical character. 



*37 



NORTHWARD BOUND: 
IN THE REALM OF ROCKS 



CHAPTER XIV 

NORTHWARD BOUND: IN THE REALM OF 
ROCKS 



H 



AVING seen all that was of interest 
to me at Christiania, at this time 
of the year, I decided to start upon 
my way in a more northerly direction, at 
last enroute to the true "Land of the Mid- 
night Sun." The first few nights one passes 
in northern Norway produce a peculiar sen- 
sation, as you continually wonder when it 
will become dark. You sit by your window 
and gradually become sleepy. Looking at 
your watchj you find to your surprise, it 
may be twelve or one, and yet it is broad 
day-light. So it continues during the twen- 
ty-four hours. (Nine months of the year 
from nine in the morning until three in the 
afternoon, the people get along without 

1! g ht ) i 4 i 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

I left Christiania by steamer for Ham- 
merfest, having been told that I would be 
more likely to see the Midnight Sun there, 
than at the more famous North Cape. The 
latter is a very high mountain, with no place 
to remain after ascent, so that one would be 
obliged to return to the ship. Then, too, the 
fog is often so dense on the mountain as to 
hide the sun entirely from view. One ex- 
cursion of three hundred tourists remained 
there a week and then turned back without 
even a glimpse of what they had come so 
many hundreds of miles to see. Another 
party who had come all the way from St. 
Louis, Missouri, to witness the famous sight, 
insisted upon calling the whimsical sun a 
fake. I met the party in Trondhjem, and 
they tried to persuade me from falling into 
that "fake advertising scheme called The 
Midnight Sun." However, trustingly believ- 
ing in the sun, I wouldn't take their word 
for its mythical existence, and we parted; 
I, relying on the sturdy Norwegians and the 
142 



Northward Bound 

capricious Midnight Sun, as well as believ- 
ing in my own good luck, the Missouri 
party looking at me with pitying smile. 

No sooner had the northbound tourist 
steamer Ragnvald Jarl weighed anchor 
in the beautiful harbor of Trondhjem, the 
coronation town and old capital of Norway, 
than some of the veteran tourists began to 
unpack and polish their field glasses. They 
evidently knew from former trips that as 
soon as the smiling Trondhjem's Fjord was 
passed, the scenery would change as if by 
magic. The fertile flower fields and arbo- 
riferous mountain-sides with their large 
prosperous farms soon give way to barren 
rocks. In all imaginable forms and sizes 
they appear, majestically face us, and just 
as proudly pass us by, without so much as 
changing a feature in response to all our 
flattering outburst in their behalf. Centu- 
ries of extravagant praise in all languages 
of the world have made them stone-hard 
in their imperturbability I suppose. They 

H3 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

do not take the lavish acclaim too seriously. 
They evidently know from experience that 
fickle tourists are apt to forget their en- 
thusiastic outcries at the sight of a fancied 
more glorious rival. 

So we sail on and on until one paritcular- 
ly magnificent giant forces the outbursts in- 
to one grand climax. Such a stirring dem- 
onstration greeted a most peculiar moun- 
tain formation called Torghatten, a curious 
hat-shaped island-mountain, with a tre- 
mendous natural tunnel through the cone. 

The captain was good enough to tell me 
the old legend of this strange phenomenon : 

"At some distance from the rough rider, 
Torghatten, lies a rocky mass called Hest- 
mandsoen. This mighty but ugly ruler of 
the Trolls once was madly in love with 
Torghatten's beautiful sister, Bekoen, a 
smiling little island, in the neighborhood of 
Torghatten, but the virtuous maiden, per- 
sistently refused to accept Hestmandsoen's 
ardent love-making. After some thousand 
144 




Hammer jest's "Gay White Way." 




Torghatten. 



Northward Bound 

years' of constant courtship, Hestmandsoen 
became quite furious from passion, and in 
his untamed anger shot an arrow at her 
which hit her brother, Torghatten, who, 
having expected some outrageous tricks of 
Hestmandsoen, had come to his sister's suc- 
cor. Luckily enough, the angry lover's 
arrow struck only his hat. Then, in the same 
moment the glorious northern sun arose in 
full majesty and transformed all three into 
stone." 

That the ill-tempered lover's arrow must 
have been a good sized one is easily under- 
stood when one learns that the hole made 
by the arrow is five hundred and twenty feet 
long, sixty-four feet high at its eastern en- 
trance, two hundred and forty feet high at 
the western, and about two hundred feet 
high in the centre. The floor slopes down- 
ward from east to west from four hundred 
and seventy to four hundred feet above the 
sea level. As the steamer passes, daylight 
is seen clear through the body of the moun- 

145 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

lain which towers about nine hundred feet 
in the air. 

At the foot lies the historical farm Tor- 
get, one of the oldest and most famous 
manor houses in Northern Norway. It was 
here that the mighty and terrible chief Tho- 
rolf kvaldulfson had his seat under the 
reign of Harald Haarfager. He compelled 
the northern part of Norway to pay taxes to 
him, instead of to the king, and it was often 
a bloodthirsty tax at that. Fie was at last 
overpowered and killed at the Sandnes 
farm. At Torgct many interesting old- 
No rthcrn curiosities may still be seen, and 
around the farm are several barrows and 
antiques. Ibsen selected this place as the 
scene for his historical drama "The Vikings 
of Helgeland." 

After sailing through the beautiful Bro- 
nosund, the steamer passes in view of De 
Syv Sostre (The Seven Sisters), seven ex- 
traordinary mountain peaks on the island of 
Alsteno. The southern-most peak is about 
146 



Northward Bound 

three thousand feet above the sea. At Al- 
steno, Peter Dass, Northern Norway's 
Shakespeare, was born about two centuries 
ago. 

His "Nordland's Trompet" (The North- 
ern Trumpet), a true and living picture of 
the fisher-folk of Helgeland and Lofoden, is 
popularly known as the "Fisherman's Bi- 
ble." Fie was a minister, but very often he 
left his pulpit for a three-months' fishing- 
trip in Lofoden. Nobody dared to com- 
plain as he was a devoted friend of the com- 
mon people. Furthermore he could bind 
the devil, still the storm, make fair wind 
and perform many other things belonging 
to the black art, according to the simple fish- 
er folk. 

After a pleasant acquaintance with the 
fair sisters, we were ready for The Island of 
Tronen, with its four peaks rising like 
church-towers from the water; afterwards 
we took a glance at the ardent lover of 
Bekoen, The Hestmandsd. He looks furious 

H7 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

indeed and resembles in shape a cloaked 
horseman riding on the sea, whence its name 
"The Horseman Island." In spite of his 
furious demeanor I took a liking to him, 
and it occurred to me that the fair maid 
Bekoen was foolish in not accepting him. 
However, she had known him for ages, and 
might well have had her own reasons for 
scorning him. 

It was related at the supper table, the 
same evening 1 that his name was likely to be 
changed soon^ as some American tourists 
who had found his resemblance to Theodore 
Roosevelt most extraordinary, had insisted 
upon renaming it "The Roosevelt Island." 
After some animated discussion a petition to 
that effect had at last been signed by twenty- 
six prominent Americans and two English 
lords, in addition to a German professor in 
mineralogy. The resolution was then sent 
to the President of the Norwegian Storth- 
ing. The outcome of the proposal was not 
yet known when I left the country, but, if 
148 



Northward Bound 

I may judge from the people's love for 
America and her hero, there can be but lit- 
tle fear of a refusal. 

Svartisen, one of the largest glaciers in 
Norway, was reached one evening, and al- 
though the ship's captain was not always 
willing to make stops on the northbound 
voyage, he nevertheless granted a short stay 
here and at sunset landed several boats full 
of insistent sightseers. Svartisen (The 
Black Ice) was like a great, frozen river. 
Resistless, this vast glacier glides down the 
mountain side^ and huge blocks of ice along 
the edge are heaped one upon the other in 
the wildest confusion, resembling tumbled 
down houses. Deep, uncanny sounds are 
heard incessantly from the glacier, as 
though an ice-monster were groaning and 
shuddering in agony beneath its burden of 
eternal ice and snow. Enormous ice-blocks 
are irresistibly pressed forward by their own 
weight, often with gigantic fragments of 
rock frozen between. Now and then a cre- 
149 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

vice stands ready to receive one into its cold, 
gruesome embrace. Frequently the upper 
blocks, impelled beyond their centres of 
gravity, topple over, and fall with a thun- 
dering crash upon those beneath. Swiftly 
they are carried onward, piled up, and 
thrown out into the lake, while the very 
earth trembles. 

The whole effect is sometimes so violent 
that the waves on the Svartisvand, a narrow 
sheet of water half a mile in length, beat for 
several fathoms up the strand opposite the 
glacier. Hence in warm weather when the 
glacier is said to "calve" one should not row 
along the shores, but keep out in the middle 
of the lake. 



150 



THE LAPLANDERS: 
A LITTLE SWEETHEART 




13 



L> 







"^ 



<5m 



CHAPTER XV 

THE LAPLANDERS: A LITTLE SWEETHEART 



B 



ODO, the principal town in the prov- 
ince of NordlancL^ is an attractive 
little place with a population of 
about five thousand souls. The landscape 
is barren^ but withal quite pleasant. From 
the surrounding hills one has a beautiful 
view of small fjords and several groups of 
islands. I remember Bodo chiefly for two 
things: first, because I had the opportunity 
of meeting the Laps here, and second, for 
the delicious sea foods which are most dain- 
tily served in this town. 

When we landed at Bodo we were met 
at the wharf by a number of Laplanders, 
men, women, children and dogs, who with 
much ado about nothing came upon the 
ship, and stayed for some time. The poor- 

153 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

er class presented a dirty appearance and 
reminded me of the poor peons of Mexico. 

The Laps are small in stature and not of 
particularly regular features. Some of 
them wore their coats fur side in and others 
vice-versa. It did not seem to make any 
difference to many of them which side was 
in or out. They had tight leather leggins 
and moccasins upon their feet, a leather belt 
around their waists, and upon their heads a 
sort of cap, which had all the appearance of 
a stuffed, four cornered pin-cushion. The 
women's and children's costumes resembled 
those of the Indians very greatly. They all 
seemed well pleased with themselves and 
their general make-up, for, as I was told, 
they were wearing their holiday attire. 

Even the dogs seemed to think themselves 
of great importance, as though they too be- 
longed to the two-footed race. They were 
indeed peculiar looking beasts. Medium in 
size, in head and ears they resembled an Es- 
quimaux dog. Their hair was long, stiff 

154 



The Laplanders 

and mouse-colored. One of the dogs seemed 
to fancy me and remained in my company 
a good part of the time; in fact its owner 
had great difficulty catching him when he 
wished to leave the ship. I also saw many 
reindeer, and thought that if others did not 
look better, I had little desire to own or ride 
behind them. 

After the Laplanders had left the ship I 
was entertained by a fine-looking chap of 
twelve just returning to Tromso from his 
vacation at school in Trondhjem. He man- 
aged to make himself fairly well understood 
by using German, with a smattering of 
French, and we soon became great friends. 
His tales about the Laps and their wonder- 
ful doings were almost as weird and uncan- 
ny as they sounded incredible to me, but 
were quite entertaining. 

The boy, so afraid that I would not be- 
lieve or understand his marvelous stories, 
unpacked a good sized book in the Norwe- 
gian language, and pointed out words now 

155 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

and then which were similar either to Ger- 
man or French. If he had not been so over- 
anxious to make "the American lady" un- 
derstand fully how wonderful the Laps 
were, in every detail^ I might have been 
able to comprehend and remember more of 
the strange performances of his beloved 
Laplanders. 

However, the boy's respect for the Norse 
god Odin was remarkable, and he certainly 
had his mythology at his tongue's end. 



156 



A BIT OF NORWEGIAN MYTH- 
OLOGY: THE CHARM OF YOUTH 



CHAPER XVI 

A BIT OF NORWEGIAN MYTHOLOGY : THE 
CHARM OF YOUTH 

46 ^7"ES, American Lady 1 you can freely 
believe me, Odin was the cleverest 
of all gods, and from him the Lap- 
landers learned their magic arts." Then he 
continued to tell me how Odin's counte- 
nance was so beautiful and pleasing that the 
spirits of all who came near him were ex- 
hilarated by it. But when he was in war, 
he appeared fierce and dreadful. 

"You see, lady 2 this arose from his being 
able to change his color and form in any 
way he wished. My 4 how I would like to 
be able to do that," the boy suddenly inter- 
rupted himself. I learned that this god 
conversed so cleverly and smoothly, that all 
who heard him were hypnotized. It seemed 

iS9 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

to me that my Norwegian shipmate had a 
little touch of the same power, but I care- 
fully avoided any flattering remarks. 

"Odin could make his enemies in battle 
as blind as newborn kittens. Yes, he could! 
And deaf, too, or terror-stricken! Their 
weapons would become so blunt, mind you, 
that they could no more cut than an old 
woman's teeth. On the other hand his own 
men would rush daringly and undauntedly 
forward without so much as armor to pro- 
tect them." 

"Oh, how wonderful," I remarked. 

"Yes, it is very wonderful indeed, and as 
I said, he could also transform his shape. 
Just think of it, Lady of America, he would 
take the shape of a fish, a snake or an eagle 
and then be off in a twinkling to distant 
lands upon his own or other people's er- 
rands. It wouldn't take him long to go to 
New York, would it?" 

"No, indeed," I agreed, "nor even to San 
Francisco." 

1 60 



A Bit of Norwegian Mythology 

"Just think of it. Lady of America, he 
could quench fire, still the ocean in its tem- 
pest, and turn the wind to any quarter he 
pleased. By means of magic power he knew 
beforehand the predestined fate of men. He 
could bring on death or life, ill or good 
luck. But after displaying such witchcraft 
there followed so much weakness and anxi- 
ety, that it was not thought proper for men 
to practice it. I wish I had the power 
though ! My, you should see me off to New 
York or Dakota in a flash!" 

"But what about the Laplanders?" I at 
last inquired cautiously. "Do they still prac- 
tice these wonderful arts?" My ignorance 
seemed to astonish him. 

"Indeed they do — some of them," he ex- 
claimed. "Odin you see, taught some of his 
arts to the sacrificial priests who came near- 
est to Odin himself in all wisdom, and from 
the priests the cunning Laplanders learned 
their arts." 



161 



THE MARVELOUS LAPLANDERS: 
WITCHCRAFT AND WONDER- 
FUL DREAMS 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE MARVELOUS LAPLANDERS: WITCHCRAFT 
AND WONDERFUL DREAMS 



D 



denly asked, aroused as from a 



t4 ~| ^\0 you believe in dreams?" he sud- 
denly a: 
reverie. 

"Indeed I do. Why?" I replied. 

"Well, good for youl Have you ever 
heard King Halfdan's dream?" 

I admitted reluctantly that I had not. 

"You don't know much about the history 
of Norway, after all, do you?" 

"No, not yet." 

"That's tough! Do you want to hear the 
dream of Bagnhild, King Halfdan's wife?" 

"Indeed I do." 

"All right! She had great dreams — 
great! Once she dreamed that she was 
standing in her herbgarden, when she took 
i6 5 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

a thorn from her gown. While she stood 
looking, the thorn suddenly began to grow 
and soon became a big tree; one end stick- 
ing down into the earth where it became 
rooted instantly. The other end of the tree 
raised itself so high into the air, that she 
could scarcely see the top of it. The roots 
of the tree were red like blood while the 
stem was beautifully green, with branches 
white as snow. There were many limbs far 
up, others low dow^ and so vast was the 
tree's foliage that it seemed to spread over 
all Norway. 

"Her husband, the good King Halfdan, 
who never had dreams, told this extraordin- 
ary circumstance to a second-sighted Lap- 
lander called Thorife, The Wise. 'Take a 
sleep in a swine stye, and you will dream of 
your own future,' said the sage. The King 
did not like this advice, because he loved his 
eider-down bed. However, his curiosity got 
the better of his pride, so one night he did 
what Thorife had told him, and dreamed 
1 66 



The Marvelous Laplanders 

that he had the most beautiful hair ? all in 
ringlets; some so long as to fall upon the 
ground ; some reaching to the middle of his 
legs; some to his knees; some to his loins, 
some to his neck and some were only knots 
springing from his head. 

"The ringlets were of various colors, but 
one surpassed all the others in beauty, lustre 
and size. Thorife interpreted the dream 
thus: His descendants should rule over 
countries with great 2 but not all with equal- 
ly great, honor as one of his race should be 
more celebrated than all the others. Soon 
after this Queen Bagnhild gave birth to a 
son, who was christened Harald and became 
the founder of the kingdom of Norway. 

"King Harald, one winter, went about in 
guest-quarters in Finmarken. On Christ- 
mas eve there came a second-sighted Lap- 
lander, by the name of Swase to the door. 
The King was at the table, still the Laplan- 
der sent an urgent message asking him to 
come out and follow. The King became 
167 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

very angry at such a daring message from 
a stranger, and the page who brought the 
message, took back a reply that clearly 
showed the King's displeasure. 

"The Laplander, notwithstanding, de- 
manded that his request be delivered a sec- 
ond time, adding that he was the mighty 
Laplander whose abode the King had prom- 
ised on his word of honor to visit. The 
King, who had never heard of the man, 
arose from the table, curious to see this 
strange creature, and followed him to his 
house. 

"At the door stood Snefrid, the beautiful 
daughter of Swase, who filled a cup of 
mead for the King. The girl was so re- 
markably beautiful that the King took hold 
both of the cup and of her hand, and im- 
mediately it was as though hot fire went 
through his body. He wanted that very 
night to take her as his wife. Swase said it 
was not to be, unless he agreed to make her 
the lawful Queen of Norway. The King 
t68 



The Marvelous Laplanders 

willingly complied with this and Snefrid 
became his wife. So passionately did the 
King love her, that he forgot his kingdom, 
and Swase took much advantage of this. 

"After having borne him four sons, Sne- 
frid died ; but thanks to her father's witch- 
craft her corpse never changed, and was as 
fresh and lifelike as when she lived. The 
King continually sat beside her, thinking 
she would come to life again. So it went 
on for three years and Swase was looked up- 
on as the real ruler of the kingdom. At the 
end of that time King Harald was still 
mourning over Snefrid's death, and the peo- 
ple worried over his delusion. At last 
Thorife succeeded by his wisdom and pru- 
dence in curing the King of his malady. 

" 'It is only reasonable,' said the wise man 
to the King, 'that thou grievest over so beau- 
tiful and noble a wife, and bestowest costly 
coverlets and beds of down on her corpse, 
as she truly deservest; but these honors fall 
far short of what is her due as she still lies 
169 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

in the same clothes. It would be more suit- 
able to raise her, and change her dress.' The 
King who didn't comprehend the wise 
man's idea agreed to this. 

"Swase who was away from home, could 
not by his witchcraft hinder the body from 
being raised 1 and no sooner was the corpse 
lifted, than all sorts of corruption came 
from it, and it was necessary to gather a pile 
of wood and burn it in haste. As the body 
sank into ashes, out came a white bird that 
descended upon the King's head, and then 
vanished. 

"After this, the King came to his senses 
and ruled the kingdom better than ever be- 
fore." The boy paused, then noticing my 
nod of approval, commenced another leg- 
end. 

"When King Erik, Harald and Snefrid's 
son, came to Finmarken, with his men, they 
found a young girl in a Lapland hut, whose 
equal for beauty they had never seen. She 
told them her name was Gunhild, and that 
170 



The Marvelous Laplanders 

her father dwelt in Helgeland and was 
called Ozur Tofte. They learned further 
that she was there to learn Lapland art from 
two of the most knowing Laps in all Nord- 
land and Finmarken. She also informed 
them that the Laplanders were great hunt- 
ers, the sturdiest of whom wanted to marry 
her. 

" 'They were so skillful,' she assured 
them 'that they can trace their game like 
hounds either upon the frozen or the thawed 
earth. They also ran so swiftly on skis that 
neither man nor beast could come near 
them. Furthermore they hit whatever they 
aimed at, thus killing everything that comes 
near.' She concluded by warning the men 
not to come in their way, and then hid 
them on their promise to kill the Lapland- 
ers, as she was in their power and not al- 
lowed to return to her father. 

"When this was done, she took some 
leather bags filled with ashes and strewed 
both outside and inside the hut. Shortly 
171 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

after, the bloodthirsty hunters came home, 
and asked who had been there. Gunhild 
cunningly denied the presence of her visi- 
tors. 

"That's strange!' they said. We fol- 
lowed men's traces close to this hut and can 
find none after that.' After kindling a fire, 
and cooking their meal, Gunhild prepared 
her bed. It had so happened that the girl 
had slept alone the three nights before, 
while the Laplanders, madly in love with 
her, had jealously watched each other for an 
advantage. 

" 'Now,' she said to the weary Lapland- 
ers, 'come here and lie down, one on each 
side of me.' They eagerly consented, so she 
soothingly laid an arm around the neck of 
each, and soon they went soundly to sleep. 
She tried to rouse them; but they fell back 
again drowsily until she was convinced 
they were not to be awakened. Thereupon 
she put two great seal-skin bags over their 
heads, and called to the King's men. They 
172 



The Marvelous Laplanders 

came forth with their, weapons, killed the 
two Laplanders and dragged them out of 
their hut. At the same moment such a fierce 
thunder storm came up that they thought 
the world's end was near. But Gunhild had 
already gained so much wisdom from their 
art that she easily quieted the storm. They 
took the young girl along with them, and 
presented her to King Erik who took her 
on board his ship and sailed away with her 
to her father at Helgeland, where she be- 
came his queen." 

The youthful narrator's enthusiasm was 
such, that I was completely forgetting the 
magnificent landscapes being unfolded, as 
the ship drifted slowly northward. Perhaps 
I flattered him with my attention, for he 
continued, almost without a pause. 

"One day Olaf Trygvason heard of a 
Laplander, a remarkable seer who could 
look into the future. Olaf, who was a 
mighty king and a good Christian, became 
curious to try this Laplander's gift of 

173 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

prophecy, and so selected one of his men 
who was the handsomest and strongest, 
clothed him magnificently, and bade him 
say to the seer that he himself was the king. 
King Olaf was known to be handsomer, 
stronger, and braver than all others. 

"Now when the messenger came to the 
fortune-teller and introduced himself as the 
King, he received the answer: 'Thou art not 
His Majesty, but I advise thee to be faith- 
ful to thy King.' More he did not care to 
say. The man on his return, related his ad- 
venture, and this only served to increase the 
King's desire to meet the Laplander, which 
he soon did. 

"The King on entering into conversation 
with the seer, asked him if he could foresee 
how it would go with him in regard to his 
kingdom, or of any other fortune he was to 
have. 

" 'Thou wilt become a renowned king, 
and perform celebrated deeds. Many men 
wilt thou bring to faith and baptism, both 

174 



The Marvelous Laplanders 

to thy own and others' good.' When he had 
told the King all that he wished, he added: 
'And that thou mayest have no doubt of 
the truth of these answers, listen to these 
tokens: When thou comest to thy ships, 
many of thy people will conspire against 
thee, and then a battle will follow in which 
many of thy men will fall, and thou wilst be 
wounded almost to death, and carried upon 
a shield to thine own ship ; yet after seven 
days thou shalt be well of thy wounds.' 

"Soon after, Olaf went down to his ships, 
where he met some mutineers who would 
destroy him and his men. A severe fight took 
place and the. events happened exactly as 
the Laplander had foretold." 

While listening to this blue-eyed Norse 
youth I was pleasantly reminded of The 
Musician's Tale in Longfellow's "Tales of 
a Wayside Inn," as the Interlude has it: 



175 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

'And then the blue-eyed Norseman told 
A Saga of the days of old. 
'There is/ said he, 'a wondrous book 
Of legends in the old Norse tongue, 
Of the dead kings of Norroway, 
Legends that once were told or sung 

In many a smoky fireside nook 
Of Iceland, in the ancient day, 
By wandering Saga-man or Scald; 
Heimskringla is the volume called; 
And he who looks may find therein 
The story that I now begin' 

'And in each pause the story made 
Upon his violin he played, 
As an appropriate interlude, 
Fragments of old Norwegian tunes 
That bound in one the separate runes, 
And held the mind in perfect mood, 
Entwining and encircling all 
The strange and antiquated rhymes 
With melodies of olden times; 
As over some half-ruined wall, 
Disjointed and about to fall, 
Fresh woodbines climb and interlace, 
And keep the loosened stones in place/' 

176 



TROMSO AND HAMMERFEST: 
THE LAPS PERFORM 




CHAPTER XVIII 

TR0MS6 AND HAMMERFEST: THE LAPS 
PERFORM 

Y youthful informant assured me 
that many Laps were still pos- 
sessed with this rare gift of magic 
art, and in order to convince me, as well as 
to give "the American lady" a rare treat, he 
would ask his parents to take us up to the 
real Laps, among the mountains. I have no 
doubt they would have been quite willing 
to do so, yet I resisted the tempting proposi- 
tion, as my time was limited, but promised 
to take advantage of his invitation on my 
return voyage. 

No wonder the lad was proud of his 

home-town. It was really very beautiful. 

We were rowed across the calm Tromso 

sound, accompanied by a guide, to visit an 

179 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

encampment of Laps, which was on the 
mainland, a short distance from the beauti- 
ful wooded island on which the little town 
is located. After all the thrilling stories 
told by my enthusiastic companion, the Laps 
seemed tame and too modern for me. They 
acted as though in an American dime muse- 
um, eager to show their peculiarities to the 
best advantage, and to sell their souvenirs 
made from wood and skin. They expect a 
fee for even allowing you to look at 
them. 

If you are in a generous mood they will 
bring their reindeer flock down from the 
hills into an enclosure, near their huts, 
where, provided you remain in your gen- 
erous mood, they will lasso and milk the 
animals, and, if your generous mood re- 
mains with you a bit longer, you may have 
the questionable pleasure of tasting the rich 
product. 

Many beautiful views of islands, moun- 
tains and fjords were passed before reach- 
180 



Troms'6 and Hammerfest 

ing Hammerfest. But such a place as this 
northernmost town in the world was! The 
whole land, and I may say the water sur- 
rounding it, was impregnated with the odor 
of codfish, for there are many thousands 
caught every day 2 and the oil dried out and 
put into immense tanks. 

One of the ladies of the Missouri party, 
told me before leaving Trondhjem that I 
would never like Hammerfest, for there was 
nothing but fish, fish, fish, and its odor fol- 
lowing wherever one went. I soon came to 
the conclusion that, in this instance, she had 
really told me the plain truth. I stood up- 
on the deck of the ship and overlooked what 
to me was anything but an inviting scene. 
I wondered whether I should climb down 
the small ladder at the ship's side, jump in- 
to a small row-boat and be rowed ashore, 
and then walk to the top of a mountain sev- 
eral hundred feet high. Upon further con- 
sideration I decided not. My ticket had run 
out and no ship would arrive at Hammer- 
181 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

fest for two days, so I concluded to go to 
the captain and ask his advice in the mat- 
ter. 



182 



A COURTEOUS CAPTAIN: 
LOVE FOR AMERICA 



CHAPTER XIX 

A COURTEOUS CAPTAIN: LOVE FOR AMERICA 

THE captain, after listening to the dis- 
couraging report of the Missouri 
party, as well as to my own ideas, 
said in a most courteous manner: 

"Madame, as an American lady, it will 
give me the greatest pleasure to have you re- 
main upon my ship, until we reach Russia 
and then return. During these five days 
you will certainly see the Mdinight Sun, 
and be able to boast of your good luck to all 
the Missouri parties you may come across." 

"Can it be that because 'the American 
Lady' has the honor and good fortune to 
belonging to the most prosperous and pow- 
erful nation in the world, that the Norwe- 
gian people are so good to her?" I asked 
myself, at the captain's courteous proposal. 

185 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

The fact is that a Norwegian looks upon 
America not only as great, but as a warm- 
hearted stepmother, that he has been taught 
to honor, respect and love with a filial es- 
teem. And although America has lured 
away some of Norway's best citizens, no 
harsh word is ever heard against her. 

In this respect as in many others I found 
the Norwegians had their own original 
view of things. Nothing but praise for my 
country was heard, praise for the great op- 
portunities she had given most of her Nor- 
wegian step-children. Although she has 
dimmed many an eye, and stained with 
tears many a furrowed cheek, and parted 
many faithful hearts, young and old, not a 
word of bitterness was heard. A silent tear 
or a heavy sigh might disclose a broken 
mother-heart, but never a complaint. 

Surely America is looked upon by the 
Norwegian as a giant nation who stands for 
liberty, justice, equality and opportunity for 
all men. The great American Republic, 

1 86 



A Courteous Captain 

which so long has been the hope for the 
hopeless, the refuge for the homeless, the in- 
spiration of the oppressed is looked upon as 
the standard, the guide, for all that is strong, 
just and great. 

It made a lasting impression on the Am- 
ericans present at Theodore Roosevelt's visit 
to Christiania, when the enormous throng 
of festively dressed people received the ex- 
President with endless and hearty shouts 
"Hurrah for America!" Entirely forget- 
ting the representative, they received the 
great man as though it was Uncle Sam him- 
self who had entered upon the soil of Nor- 
way. 

Thanking the captain for his exceedingly 
kind offer, I decided to go. From now on, 
our trip was most exciting. We passed 
through fjords, so winding and narrow at 
times, that it seemed almost as if our ship 
would strike the rocks upon either side. 
Such mountains as they were! Many were 
clad in pine-trees, others were barren, and 

i8 7 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

some few covered at their base with a white 
lichen. We passed by many small houses 
and gardens used mainly by the fishermen. 
One day our ship stopped suddenly and I 
looked to see if anything unusual had hap- 
pened. It seemed that our supply of fish 
had given out and a man in a small boat, in 
the bottom of which were fish swimming 
about, was at the ship's side. He caught and 
dressed them as quickly and adroitly as an 
oyster-man in our American markets 
would open oysters. They were hurriedly 
weighed and put upon our ship. I felt 
doubly assured that I had no need to fear 
the fish I had later for my dinner was not 
of the freshest. 



188 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN: 
THE LURE OF NATURE 



CHAPTER XX 

THE MIDNIGHT SUN : THE LURE OF NATURE 

ON the second afternoon after I had 
left Hammerfest, I was told that at 
twelve o'clock I should see the 
Midnight Sun. Accordingly I made myself 
comfortable. Rolled up in my steamer rug 
I stayed in the ladies' reception room await- 
ing the call to see the sight anticipated for 
so long. At five minutes of twelve I heard 
the captain's voice saying: 

"Madame, I have the Midnight Sun for 
you!" Immediately I went upon deck. 

How shall I describe this magnificent, ce- 
lestial display, The Midnight Sun, which 
for years I had hoped to witness. 

Many a poet has sought to paint in words 
the splendor of this scene. At midnight, 
the glorious orb of day in gold and purple 
191 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

hue, hangs above the horizon, diffusing 
over everything a rich yet weird glow. How 
can I express the awed silence that uncon- 
sciously seized me? The feeling of mag- 
ical wonder as I stood there at night, look- 
ing over a nature that seemed soundly 
asleep, as though it was shrouded in dark- 
ness yet in bright daylight, cannot, as I have 
said, be described in mere words. The light 
is that of day, but a day of another world, a 
better, sweeter and more peaceful world. 

Bayard Taylor very exquisitely writes: 
"Eddies of returning birds gleamed golden 
in the nocturnal sun, like drift of beech 
leaves in the October air. Far to the north 
the sun lay in a bed of saffron light over the 
clear horizon of the Arctic Ocean. A few 
bars of dazzling orange clouds floated 
above me, and, still higher in the sky, where 
the saffron melted through delicate rose 
color into blue, hung light wreaths of va- 
por, touched with pearly, opaline flushes of 
pink and golden grey. The sea was a web 

192 




King Haakon, Queen Maud and little Crozvnprince Olav 
enjoying the midnight sun from the King's Yacht. 



The Midnight Sun 

of pale slate-color, shot through and 
through with threads of orange and saffron, 
from the dance of a myriad shifting and 
twinkling ripples. The air was filled and 
permeated with a soft, mysterious glow, and 
between the headlands stood the Midnight 
Sun, shining on us with subdued fires, and 
with the gorgeous coloring of an hour, for 
which we have no name, since it is neither 
sunset nor sunrise, but the blended loveli- 
ness of both." It is, I think, impossible to 
paint this splendor in better words than 
these. 

The sun rose slowly and majestically 
from the water's edge and instantly the sky 
began to be illuminated with the most ex- 
quisite colors of the rainbow. The color- 
ings would remain a short time; then di- 
minish, then again increase in brilliancy un- 
til the skies looked like a burning ocean. 
This continued for half an hour. Then I 
could see that the finest of this magnificent 

193 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

display was calmly fading, and was told that 
it was morning! 

To witness such a sight at midnight left an 
impression of having witnessed something 
unearthly, something unimaginably grand 
and strange. I had but one regret that it 
did not last for hours instead of one short, 
oh, so very short, half hour! For three 
nights in succession we were treated to this 
wonderful display which was one ever to 
remain most deeply impressed upon my 
memory. 



194 



A UNIQUE PERFORMANCE: 
PIGS AT SEA 



CHAPTER XXI 

A UNIQUE PERFORMANCE: PIGS AT SEA 

WHEN one is upon shipboard, the 
smallest excuse for a laugh is 
welcomed, and made the most of. 
One beautiful afternoon, when comfort- 
ably seated in my steamer chair, having just 
enjoyed my tea, I witnessed what to me was 
a very amusing performance and something 
quite out of the ordinary even upon a Nor- 
wegian ship. We had stopped in mid stream 
and I was all curiosity as to what we were 
to see now. I listened and soon discovered 
that the narrow rope ladder was being low- 
ered over the side of the ship. A large row- 
boat was approaching in which were three 
Italian organ-grinders, each with his own 
instrument. Now was to commence what I 
considered a most difficult feat, the climb- 
ing of that ladder! 

197 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

The first man ; with his organ strapped 
upon his back, stepped cautiously from the 
rowboat to the ladder and made his ascent 
to the steamer's deck successfully. The sec- 
ond was not so fortunate. About half way 
up his organ caught upon the guard rope, 
and describing a most artistic somersault 
in the air, he fell headlong, sprawling and 
screaming, into the water! 

The man was evidently unhurt, still in a 
moment everything was excitement. Ital- 
ian curses flowed without limit, and as I 
unfortunately understood what was being 
said, I was not free to laugh at the epithets 
so generously showered on our jovial captain 
who stood innocently smiling at the angry 
men. Each musician was evidently striving 
to see who could outdo the other. 

The orders given in the Norwegian lan- 
guage by the crew only added to the general 
confusion. More was to come! Accidents 
rarely happen singly. What did I hear? 
Could it be possible that live pigs were be- 
198 



A Unique Performance 

ing hoisted aboard to complete the already 
lively scene. It was true. I had overlooked 
them in the lively entertainment furnished 
gratis by the organ-grinders. 

I couldn't tell at first which were pig's 
squeals or men's screams. The big basket 
of pigs was not more than half way up, 
when it burst, and in an instant its contents 
were disputing their realm with the fishes. 
We learned that the organ-grinders each 
had a squealing pig instead of a monkey as 
his associate and it was not to be wondered 
at that these poor animals with the swish of 
the water and the confusion then existing 
were exercising their voices to their fullest 
extent. I thought to myself that catching 
a pig upon land was certainly no easy task, 
so what must it be to catch them in the wa- 
ter, and get them safely up the side of the 
ship ! 

Later, both men and pigs gave another 
concert on shipboard, and although not so 
199 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

successful from a humorous point of view, 
as the former unintentional performance, 
it was, nevertheless, a good harvest of coins. 



200 



TRONDHJEM: A TOWN OF MUCH 
HISTORICAL INTEREST 



CHAPTER XXII 

trondhjem: A TOWN of much historical 

INTEREST 

ON my return trip, I made a stop at 
Trondhjem, founded about iooo 
A. D. in the reign of Olaf Trygva- 
son, which has been for centuries, and still 
is, the coronation place of the Norwegian 
kings. My first visit was to the world fa- 
mous Trondhjem's Domkirke (The Cathe- 
dral) the largest edifice of its kind in Scan- 
dinavia. 

Before landing, a Norwegian bishop who 
had come on board ship at Bodo, told me a 
legend about this cathedral, which is so ven- 
erable and rich in association. The legend 
runs that the destinies of Norway and the 
cathedral are in close relationship. If a 
tower or a wing of the church is allowed to 
203 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

decay, hard times will descend upon the 
country, but on the other hand if the church 
is well cared for, prosperity will continue 
its welcome abode in old Norway. 

Once, when a prominent Norwegian sen- 
ator upbraided the late King Oscar II. for 
showing so much generosity towards the old 
cathedral while many of the forts were in 
bad shape, the King is said to have an- 
swered, that he wanted prosperous times to 
reign in Norway, and that no forts would be 
needed during his administration. 

If there should be anything in this legend, 
and all good citizens blindly believe in it, 
Norway certainly can look ahead to a most 
prosperous period, as the restoration of the 
cathedral, which was begun in 1869, is now 
far advanced. The east transept, with the 
chancel and the chapter house have already 
arisen from their ruins, and show what the 
appearance of the cathedral was in its 
flourishing days. The handsome architec- 
ture of the chancel and the King's entrance 
204 



Trondhjem 

on the south side is certainly worth study. 
The cathedral is built of soapstone, which 
is said to be an excellent material for the 
architectural designs on account of its soft- 
ness, since it is also of a very durable na- 
ture. In about twenty-five years the cathe- 
dral is expected to be fully restored to its 
splendid and solemn form of a thousand 
years ago. 

The former residence of the Archbishop, 
which lies close to the church and is now 
transformed into an armory, also deserves a 
visit. The old silk banners, as well as the in- 
teresting architecture seen here, are of rare 
interest for literary students, as this histori- 
cal place, was used by Ibsen as a part of the 
setting for his historical drama, "The Pre- 
tenders." 

Christianssten, a fortress used as a salut- 
ing and fire alarm battery, is situated on a 
high hill within the city limits. From the 
ramparts, a splendid view of the town and 
205 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

neighborhood rewards one royally for the 
efforts in climbing. 

Munkeholmen is another fortress situated 
on a little island outside the town. It was 
once used as a place of execution, but was 
turned into its present use as a lighthouse, 
centuries ago. The cell which the famous 
Danish politician Peter Griffenfeld occu- 
pied for years is still preserved. 

Stiftsgaarden, which was erected about 
1775, is supposed to be the largest wooden 
building in Scandinavia. This imposing 
building, with its large old fashioned rooms, 
is the royal residence when the King visits 
the town. The Trondhjemites are said to be 
the most royalistic people of which any city 
ever boasted, so it is not to be wondered at 
that the royal family makes a yearly visit to 
this most attractive town. The building is 
situated in Munkegaden, a broad clean- 
looking thoroughfare with an alley of old 
oak-trees on each side. 
206 



Trondhjem 

The ruins of Steinviksholms Castle in 
Stordalen is worth the drive, even if one has 
to make a stop at a station that no good 
Christian cares to mention especially in the 
hot weather which I encountered on this 
trip. The Norwegians have evidently no 
idea why the brightly painted sign on the 
station building evokes such amused glances 
from the English-speaking tourists. In the 
Norwegian language the unmentionable 
name indicates merely a large flat stone, in- 
stead of the infernal regions. 

Those who have once visited Fjeldsater 
Sanatorium, fourteen hundred feet above 
the level of the sea, and one and a half hour's 
drive from Trondhjem, cannot help but 
yearn for this delightful place. There is an 
extraordinary charm about the grand moun- 
tain scenery which attracts as perhaps no 
other part of Northern Norway does. The 
dry, clear mountain air is most health-giv- 
ing and the calm nights are superb. The va- 
ried colors of the scene and cool days are 
207 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

very invigorating both to soul and body. An 
enjoyable walk can be taken from the sana- 
torium to a tremendous hill called Graakal- 
len, whose height is about eighteen hundred 
feet. 

The Lerfos waterfalls, situated about four 
miles south of Trondhjem are well worth an 
excursion. This waterfall, or more correctly 
speaking, waterfalls, as there are really two, 
the height of each being about a hundred 
feet, was pointed out to me as a sight I could 
not afford to miss. Truly a favored spot it 
is. A beautiful open valley with green fields 
is surrounded by tree-clad hills in all their 
varied shapes, many of them brightly il- 
luminated by those glorious Norwegian 
birch and service-trees. 

The falls are seen tumbling among moss- 
grown rocks from the top of a tall cliff. 
Close to the lower fall is a small plateau 
which escapes the spray, and on this a pa- 
vilion has been built, where refreshments 
are served. 

208 



Trondhjem 

I was delighted to reach Molde, a smil- 
ing little doll's town of a place, called the 
"City of Roses." The village is surrounded 
by hills, and, although in a high latitude, 
the mild climate is evidenced by the luxuri- 
ous vegetation of the country. 

Molde is a little collection of brightly 
painted wooden houses, with pretty gardens, 
and in the picturesque church here, is the 
well known canvas, "He Is Risen/' by the 
famous native painter, Axel Ender. From 
the church tower are seen hills, valleys and 
the glorious Romsdal mountain chain with 
its high and pointed peaks, forming a pic- 
ture, which one may enjoy as a temple raised 
by hands stronger than those of any master 
builder. 

While stopping here I met an English 
lady who the previous day had lost her 
purse containing a considerable amount of 
money. As soon as she missed it she told 
the proprietor of the hotel of her mishap. 

"Where did you lose it?" he asked. 
209 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

She explained that it must have been lost 
in the morning on her trip to a farm, a few 
miles from the town. 

"Well," said the proprietor, calmly, "I'll 
immediately send a messenger for it." 

"What do you mean?" asked the lady 
who thought the man was joking with her. 
She angrily reminded him that scores of 
people must have passed the spot since. 

"Oh, yes," he answered confidently, "but 
only natives I suppose, and they wouldn't 
touch it. So if it dropped on the road it will 
still be there, have no fear." 

A boy was then dispatched to "fetch the 
purse." Behold, an hour after, the mes- 
senger returned with the pocketbook un- 
touched, although a dozen or more people 
had undoubtedly stepped over it. I sup- 
pose, since the purse did not belong to any 
of them, they felt it was not their business to 
pick it up. 

This calls to mind a similar incident of 
which an American gentleman told me, in 

210 



Trondhjem 

Trondhjem. He had been out driving in a 
Kariol, a two wheeled conveyance on 
springs, drawn by one horse and holding one 
person. As the day was warm the skydsgut 
(driver) had suddenly stopped, removed his 
coat and carelessly thrown it over a fence. 

"It was a good and apparently new coat, 
and I thought the man had suddenly gone 
mad," my informer remarked. "On my in- 
quiry the man assured me that we would 
find the coat safe in the same spot when we 
returned the next day; and, to my great as- 
tonishment, we did." 



2TB 



BERGEN: 
SOME PLACES WORTH SEEING 




is 



CHAPTER XXIII 

BERGEN: SOME PLACES WORTH SEEING 

WHEN we reached Bergen, Nor- 
way's Chicago, the sun was actu- 
ally shining. This unusual sight 
put our jocular captain on his mettle, and 
to the passengers' great amusement he 
threatened to return to Molde, assuring 
every one who entered the bridge, that we 
had come to a strange city, a place he pre- 
tended not to know, as he never had seen the 
sun in this locality before. 

"Does it always rain in Bergen, then?" I 
asked, innocently: 

"Oh, no!" was his dry reply. "Once in a 
while it snows." 

Then in a very serious voice he warned 
me from going out on the street without my 
umbrella, as the horses were so accustomed 

215 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

to seeing persons with their umbrellas that 
they would be frightened should they hap- 
pen to meet a person not carrying one. 

Bergen, the city of commerce, is an old 
town, pinched down between tall mountains. 
It was founded by the Norwegian King, 
Olaf Kyrre. During the civil war Bergen 
was the scene of many a bloody battle. In 
1 135 Magnus Sigurdson was blinded by 
Harald Gilde, and the following year Har- 
ald Gilde was assassinated by Sigurd 
Slembe, and a few years after his son was 
killed by his own brother. 

It was in Bergen Magnus Erlingson was 
crowned King of Norway, and in 1181 oc- 
curred the famous sea-battle outside of 
Nordnes between Magnus and Slembe. In 
1223 tne big council was held in which 
Haakon Haakonson was accepted as the 
lawful heir to the throne of Norway. A 
beautiful extract from the Norwegian saga 
about this beloved king runs as follows : 

One day as an important assembly was 
216 



Bergen 

held in Bergen, young Haakon Haakonson 
was released from school and allowed to 
spend the holiday with his dear foster-moth- 
er, Astrid. When he reached home that 
night, he went as usual to the room of Helge 
Hvasse, who was a true, full-blooded Vi- 
king in the employ of Haakon's uncle, to 
bid him good night. Helge Hvasse was very 
fond of the eight-year-old lad, but this night 
he received him with coolness. 

"Go away with you, you coward!" he 
cried warningly, as the king's little son 
rushed beamingly forward to place himself 
on his robust friend's knee. 

"Why are you so angry with me, father - 
Hvasse?" said the astonished boy. 

"Because this day you were deprived of 
your paternal inheritance," answered the 
old man with a lowering frown. 

"Where did that happen and by whom?" 
demanded the boy. 

"It happened at to-day's assembly," was 
the reply, "and it was your two brothers, 
217 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

King Inge and Haakon Jarl who did it." 

"Please don't be angry with me on that 
account," pleaded the boy, "and don't worry, 
for surely that law will never hold, as my 
commissioners were not present to answer 
for me." 

"Bosh!" said the Viking, hiding a smile, 
"Who are your commissioners, anyhow?" 

"Our good Lord in Heaven, the Holy 
Mother and St. Olaf," answered the boy 
with touching confidence. "In their hands 
lie my case and my future rights, and have 
no fear, they will take good care of me." 

The Viking embraced the boy devotedly. 

"Thanks for those words, worthy son of a 
righteous father. Your trust in God shall 
tenfold reward you." 

Haakon died in Bergen in 1264 and was 
buried at Christ Church. During the peace- 
ful reign of Haakon Haakonson, Bergen 
was not only Norway's largest and richest 
city, but by far the most important place of 
commerce in the whole of Scandinavia. 
218 



Bergen 

For centuries Bergen had the honor of be- 
ing the King's residence, and kept this pres- 
tige until Christiania later, by its immense 
growth, broke its power. Bergen had in its 
days of glory more than thirty churches and 
cloisters, besides many official and private 
buildings of rare architecture. 

In 1393 the prosperous city was infested 
by German pirates, who several times re- 
tarded the growth of the young and flourish- 
ing town. The dreaded Hanseatic league — 
a formidable German trading company 
which during the fourteenth and fifteenth 
centuries monopolized, by fair means or 
foul, the commerce of Northern Europe — 
was at last broken up by the Norsemen, who 
from 1630 took the reins of government in- 
to their own hands. 

Tyskebryggen (the German wharf), 
where trading was conducted, is still to be 
seen. Here in a corner of the German 
quay is a kind of museum, where one can 
get an idea of the period when Bergen was 
219 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

under the sway of the League. The unique 
arrangements, fittings and furniture of the 
room retain strictly their old Hanseatic 
character. 

In 1665 the harbor of Bergen was the 
scene of a furious sea-battle between the 
English and the Dutch East Indiamen. The 
English squadron was defeated, and many 
of the picturesque old buildings facing the 
harbor boast of imbedded cannon balls and 
other battle scars. 

Of the old churches from the middle 
ages only three remain: the Cathedral, the 
Cross Church and the German Church. Of 
the many historical cloisters, the ruins of 
the Munkeliv monastery are the only ones 
now standing. 

Perhaps the most interesting edifice re- 
maining from the Middle Ages is the newly 
restored Haakonshal, the ancient place of 
King Haakon Haakonson. This is an im- 
posing little building which is looked upon 
by the Bergenites as "a relic reminding them 
220 



Bergen 

of Haakon Haakonson's glorious rule. It 
is beautifully situated within the fortress 
ramparts, facing the German wharf. Here 
is also the fish market, with its tempting sight 
of salmon, trout and other varieties fresh 
from the fjords and brooks. The costumes 
of the women are odd indeed and the lan- 
guage used by the fishermen very grotesque. 

"Ska do ha fisk?" (Do you want any 
fish?) I was asked by a dozen of them. 
When I shook my head negatively they 
held up scores of beautiful specimens say- 
ing: "Ka feiler frua? E ho tullerusk i hue 
sitf Ha dok set gildere fisk kanske. Dok 
sku skam dok!" All these outcries meant 
something like this: "What is the matter 
with the lady? Is she out of her senses? Has 
she ever seen finer fish? She ought to be 
ashamed of herself!" 

I couldn't help glancing admiringly at 
their wares, even if the fishermen did get 
angry at me for not buying. And so they 
went on in a deafening chorus: 
221 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

"Kom te meg tykka!" (Come to me, 
Stouty) . "Nei, kom te meg, eg vil sjaa dok- 
kor fisk som ha vasked seg!" (No, come to 
me, I will show you fish that is celebrated!) 
"Her kommer kona sjoll Kom til meg, eg 
ska gi dig fisken for nesten ingenting eg fer 
eg liker og handle med tykke madammer 
eg, dem ved ka fisk e!" (Here comes the mis- 
tress herself! Come to me, I shall give you 
the fish for almost nothing because I like to 
trade with stout women, they know a good 
fish when they see it.) 

Such screaming and yelling! So hard 
they tried to outdo each other! How they 
managed to keep their voices going was a 
riddle to me. And the buyers! Men, 
women and children, of all ages and all 
walks of life evidently tried to outyell the 
sellers, but they might have spared them- 
selves the effort. However^ they were not in 
want for words. Satirical remarks and 
jokes paid the fishmen back readily in their 
own coin. 

222 



Bergen 

That witticisms were highly appreciated 
was plainly seen. It was altogether a war 
of wordSj the like of which I never saw. 
Once in a while it came to a scuffle, and I 
witnessed a formidable fish-throwing com- 
bat that looked fierce but ended neverthe- 
less without fatality. A woman standing 
aloof in a fishing smack quelled the com- 
batants by a ready joke and the fight ended 
in a crestfallen "Din Tosk!" (You fool.) 

Bergen is surrounded by highly pictur- 
esque mountains, and those who are suffi- 
ciently energetic will be royally rewarded 
by climbing their zigzag paths. One of 
them overlooks the harbor^ whence a fine 
view of the surrounding fjords may be ob- 
tained, with Bergen lying at one's feet. If 
one is not particularly fond of climbing a 
carriage drive may be taken to the top of 
one of the mountains. 

While on the subject of Bergen I must 
not omit to mention my pleasant drive 
through the Nygaards Park, on a visit to 
223 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

Fantoft Church. This is a typical example 
of the Norwegian "Stavekirk" of the 
twelfth century, whose style and size is 
about the same as the Gol-s Stavekirk at 
Bygdo. It has been carefully pulled down 
and reconstructed on its present site. The 
edifice has no windows and consequently is 
dark inside. Like the sister-church at 
Christiania, it is built entirely from wood 
and of grotesque shapes, with shingled roof, 
ornamented with carvings, relics of the Vi- 
kings' worship. 

It is hard to leave Bergen, although the 
sun is a strange guest at that place, but the 
Bergenites are of a pleasant disposition and 
they do not mind this discomfort in the 
least. Their cheerfulness and good nature, 
though rather sarcastic, seems to have a 
good effect on everybody. 

"Oh, Bergen, fringed with purple isles. 
Oh hills! Oh rock-bound coast! 
I needs must say farewell, when I 
Have learned to love thee most" 
224 



Bergen 

One must admire a particularly beautiful 
custom of the Norwegians. As a ship is leav- 
ing the wharf, especially from a large city, 
many men and women gather, singing na- 
tional hymns to the accompaniment of har- 
monicas and guitars. Thus one feels that 
their heart-felt feelings and good wishes are 
with one whom they see moving slowly 
away, perhaps never to tread their soil 
again. 

It is strange that a country which is vis- 
ited by thousands of tourists never gives one 
the impression of a place where the people 
feed on tourists. To be approached by a 
beggar is a curiosity, and although the 
stores are loaded with tempting souvenirs 
and things suitable for travelers, one is 
never for a moment reminded of special 
stores and prices for tourists only. I found 
the store-keepers and their employees al- 
ways polite and pleasant, but never insistent. 
They seem too proud and dignified to offer 
their wares in a persuasive way. It is 
22$ 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

tempting indeed to purchase mementos of a 
memorable visit before leaving Bergen, as 
the place certainly is a paradise for sou- 
venir hunters. Many of the shops in Ber- 
gen afford excellent opportunities in this 
respect; silver, gold and carved woods and 
rare embroideries being some of the pecu- 
liarly native products. 

While in Bergen I was amused at the way 
in which the Norwegians tie their horses, 
when waiting in the street. A rope is fas- 
tened to a front leg, just above the hoof and 
the other end is tied to the front wheel of the 
vehicle. Should the horse be very unruly, 
two ropes are used, one upon a hind leg 
also. Thus one can see it is not at all easy 
for the animal to run away. The Norwe- 
gian driver does not seem to need a whip. 
When wishing to start the horse, instead of 
the American way of using a lash and a 
coarse "get up !" they purse their lips, chirp, 
the horse raises his ears, wags his tail and 
away we go. This was both a pleasant and 
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a novel experience to me. When the driver 
wanted the horse to stop, he simply talked 
to him again, and very sweetly at that, say- 
ing something that sounded like: "Burr-oh- 
burriburr!" which was quite as effective as 
dragging him back on his haunches by the 
reins. 



227 



A THRILLING JOURNEY: IN THE 
KINGDOM OF GREATNESS 




View of Voss Railway. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

A THRILLING JOURNEY: IN THE KINGDOM 
OF GREATNESS 

SOME of the most magnificent scenic 
views I ever witnessed were upon 
the new railroad running from Ber- 
gen to Christiania. Fifty or more tunnels 
are passed during the short trip of seventy 
English miles from Bergen to Vossevangen. 
Still one does not mind this semi-darkness 
at all on account of the immense effect as 
the train emerges, and views of an enchant- 
ing and awful character present themselves 
to the eye of the highly astonished traveler. 
The line is a wonderful piece of engineer- 
ing, being at many points hewn from solid 
rock. In some parts it overhangs and skirts 
the picturesque fjords Sorfjord and Ost- 
ijord. and at other points the road is liter- 
231 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

ally hung in the air^ balanced as it were on 
a tight rope stretched from one mountain 
peak to another. This part of the line is 
commonly called "The Tickler;" and tick- 
lish, it is, to be sure. 

Vossevangen is quite a little town with a 
pretentious hotel. While stopping at this 
place I had a beautiful drive to Breidablik, 
some kind of an amusement place, very pic- 
turesquely situated in a pine forest, at a con- 
siderable elevation on the other side of the 
lake. The air here is remarkaoly pure and 
bracing, and odoriferous from the beautiful 
pine forest. 

The road leading from Vossevangen to 
the famous Stalheim and the Nerodal is 
beautiful, and as comfortable to drive on as 
a Parisian boulevard. The scenery is most 
pleasing, the road winding about smiling 
lakes and big squares of birch-trees, and last 
but not least the many magnificent water- 
falls glittering in all the colors of the rain- 
bow. Finally the boulevard leads us through 
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A Thrilling Journey 

a big and solemn fir-forest and there we 
have the climax, the grand Stalheim, closed 
in by the awe inspiring Nerodal. 

Stalheim can boast of the finest hotel in 
the interior of Norway, having a situation 
unsurpassed by any other in grandeur. 
From the cosy verandas of the hotel a most 
impressive vista is obtained of the Nerodal 
surrounded by its towering peaks. On each 
side of the steep cliff on which the hotel is 
built, a frisky waterfall tumbles down into 
the depths. The cliff is more than a thou- 
sand feet high, and is as precipitous as a 
modern skyscraper. To the left is seen a 
very peculiar mountain formation, the Jor- 
dalsnut, about two thousand feet high, and 
to the right, another giant called Kolda- 
fjeld. 

One of the waiters at the hotel told me 
that an Englishman "once upon a time" as- 
cended the blunted cone of the awful Jor- 
dalsnut, entering it from the bottom of the 
Nerodal. Although I found many who 

233 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

were familiar with the tale, I met no one 
who actually believed in the feat. It is 
therefore safe to say that there is no man or 
woman now living who can claim the honor 
of having ascended this mountain peak, so 
here is a good opportunity for the venture- 
some. 

An hour's drive through the magnificent 
Nerodal valley is of a most impressive and 
stirring character. One drives along the 
cool, greenish-blue Nerofjord with tower- 
ing mountains rising almost four thousand 
feet perpendicularly on both banks of the 
ill-tempered little river. Waterfalls of a 
most enchanting beauty dash and jump 
down the mountain walls, and wild flowers 
grow by the wayside. One who is not ac- 
customed to travel in wild mountain dis- 
tricts will certainly sit with his heart in his 
mouth at times. Still the grandeur of it all 
gives one an indescribable thrill, a strange 
yearning, sweet yet horrifying. A strip of 
blue sky is seen far, oh, so very far above 

234 




13 



A Thrilling Journey 

your head, but not a single sunbeam reaches 
down into this mysterious valley. 

Occasionally I was shocked by a fierce 
rumbling thunderlike noise. The driver 
told me "Ikke at v'dre bange" (Show no 
fear) , that it was merely immense blocks of 
stone tumbling from the peaks down into 
the depths of the dale, which could hardly 
be considered consoling. But safe and sound 
we reached a little spot encompassed by 
mountains, called Gudvangen. 

Coming from the Nerodal, the little ham- 
let looked cheerful and inviting to me, but in 
winter it must be a dreadful place. At this 
season avalanches sweep down from the 
peaks above, shooting with terrific velocity 
into the river below. Wherever it is possible 
the houses are built under the shelter of 
rocks which serve as a protection against the 
terrible force of the air-currents. For this 
purpose the restaurant and cafe of the hotel 
was built around two huge boulders reach- 
ing from the floor to the ceiling, which gives 

235 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

the interior a remarkable grotto-like ap- 
pearance. 

The very name of Hardanger is music to 
the ears of loyal Norwegians. It stands for 
exquisite natural beauty, over which the ar- 
tist-soul would rave and the poet be lost in 
a spell-bound ecstasy. Every shade of 
meaning to the word glorious is here strik- 
ingly developed. 

Here is glory befitting a paradise, wheth- 
er it ranges from the majestic, austere, rug- 
ged mountains to the refined culture of 
fjord vegetation, or simply the grand en- 
semble of the landscape at whatever point 
of view one may choose. There is a certain 
harmony and completeness, not to be found 
anywhere else in the country, which is pre- 
eminent here. 

The picture is enlivened by the appear- 
ance of the countrymen with their curious 
dress and customs. The women in particu- 
lar, conform to certain castes or social sta- 
tions, which are plainly visible by their 
236 




Skjervet in Eide, Har danger. 



A Thrilling Journey 

dress. For instance, at the hotels, the maid 
servants adopt a becoming scarlet bodice, 
which with a cordial ? unprofessional smile, 
adds considerably to the zest of meal service 
or personal attendance. Married women are 
distinguished by a scrupulously white skaut 
or ruffled cap, which is an emblem of rigid 
fidelity. The unmarried maids, on the con- 
trary are bedecked in gay splendor, with 
luxuriant auburn tresses dropping modestly 
behind. Their faces are thus brought into 
pretty contrast and might well tempt others 
besides the dashing youth of the country. 

A ride to the Voringfos was suggested 
and eagerly acted upon, as it promised to be 
a trip of considerable interest. The ascent 
to the falls was about four miles from our 
stopping place, the town Maabo, and but 
for the poor condition of our saddles, the 
trip might have been comfortable. 

These difficulties were soon forgotten, 
however, when the ride was fairly com- 
menced. Up through the magnificent rustic 
237 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

valley of the Eidf jord we pushed lazily and 
almost clumsily, in remarkable contrast to 
the smooth, easy ride along the well-kept 
road from Vik 2 the first part of our jour- 
ney. 

At last a turn in the fjord banks brought 
us within view of the falls, and the picture 
was one never to be forgotten. From a 
height of nearly two thousand feet, the tor- 
rent dashed past us, one stream of water hav- 
ing an abrupt drop of about five hundred 
feet. 

The day was cloudless and rather dry, so 
the misty vapor accompanying the splash of 
the crystal water often reflected a tiny rain- 
bow which furnished a pretty dash of color 
to the monotonous gray rock and dull green 
heather. We were compelled to leave it 
far too soon, for approaching darkness 
threatened to make our descent a perilous 
one. 

Another notable point of interest is the 
Skjaggedalsfos, a really fine cataract that 
238 




Tvinnefossen, Voss. 



A Thrilling Journey 

compares with the American Niagara in 
everything but volume. Its height is con- 
siderably greater, and the deep, mysterious 
chasm into which it pitches headlong af- 
fords a rebound of spray that forms a sort 
of pointing hand, of which the descending 
shaft is the forefinger. 

This effect is most remarkable as one 
peers forward into the chasm, after cau- 
tiously approaching from along the gloomy 
Ringedalsvand, guided by a low rumbling 
as of the distant thunder on a torrid sum- 
mer's evening. 

An hour's climb distant is a twin falls, in 
which two streams are all but joined at the 
brink of a precipice, falling together from 
a great height, for all the world like the act 
of a great invisible alchemist, compounding 
a mighty broth. 

A bridge of solid ice hangs over the 
chasm and we were venturesome enough to 
make the climb, some six hundred feet, so as 
to obtain a view into the abyssmal depths. 

239 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

Of course it made one dizzy, and I should 
not advise any timid fellow traveler to un- 
dertake the venture. 

One of our party essayed to risk his neck 
on the upper side of the overhanging grotto, 
where the sun had slightly melted the snowy 
ice to a smooth, inclined plane. He lost 
his footing, much to our amusement, and 
though secured to the rest of our party by a 
stout rope, nevertheless had a bad scare, 
which served henceforth to restrain his rash- 
ness. 

Returning to the base of the falls we were 
treated to the unusual sight of a double rain- 
bow, one spectrum within another, that was 
glorious to behold. It is a pity it could not 
be photographed, owing to insufficient light, 
for it would have been a rarity on a par 
with other wonders of this remarkable 
country. 

The Fjerlands Fjord is the name of one 
of the many winding arms sent out into the 
ocean by the much praised Sognef jord. Sur- 
240 



A Thrilling Journey 

rounded as it is on both sides by tall, steep 
but always grass-clad mountains, it does not 
give one the cold, deserted impression that 
some of the other mighty arms of the Sogne- 
fjord do. Greatness and imposing power 
have here joined hands with the placid and 
bland to make the scene agreeable to the 
traveler. 

On the outward tour one passes several 
towering mountain peaks of five thousand 
feet and more, protruding from the water. 
Part of the fjord is very narrow, and the 
scenery, with a mighty stone Colussus on 
each side of the little steamer, is almost of 
an appalling character. Sometimes the boat 
passes through long ranks of these fierce- 
looking rocks, and it is with a sigh of relief 
that one waves a goodbye to the last Colos- 
sus, and makes ready for the royal reception 
awaiting one as the fjord closes itself up in- 
to a glittering lake. Here a beautiful dale 
opens its hospitable arms and welcomes you 
with the rarest varieties of flora. The dale 
241 



The hand of tin- Midnight Sun 

is guarded by rows of erect, sombre-looking 
pine trees and above those is again seen a 
rank of powerful giant peaks, clad in iey 
armor on which the golden rays of the sun 
are dazzlingly playing. 

At the fjord's estuary is a little hamlet, 
Mundal, with its churchj hotel and general 
store. Tbis inviting little place is surround 
ed by level tracts of land intersected by a 
frisky river. Brimming with icy water di- 
rect from the glaciers, it cuts its way cold, 
ami deep blue over frowning rocks and smil- 
ing fields. In the background stands the 
threatening Josetdalsbrii. On the left the 
Buarbra, and to the right is seen the mighty 
ice hat of the Suphellebra. They are all 
three most wonderful to look at, but espe- 
cially the latter with its shimmering, glitter- 
ing ice masses. Now and then big blocks of 
ice tear themselves loose and fall with a ter- 
rifying turmoil to the bottom of the dale. 

The Jostedals' glacier, which has an area 
of fourteen hundred square miles, is said to 
242 




Loatefos, Hardanger. 



A Thrilling Journey 

be the largest of its kind, not only in Nor- 
way but entire Europe. It differs consid- 
erably from the glaciers I have seen in 
Switzerland. Like its big Norwegian 
brothers it covers the whole mountain ridge, 
forming hills and dales at its pleasure, while 
winding spider-like arms stretch themselves 
down into the adjacent districts. One of 
the tremendous snow-waves reaches a height 
of almost seven hundred feet. 

Some of the glaciers are extremely diffi- 
cult and dangerous to climb, and it is not al- 
ways safe to place yourself too entirely in 
the hands of a foolhardy Norwegian guide. 
A distinguished Norwegian scientist told 
me that he once was urged by his daring 
guide to slide down one of the sloping hills 
on his back in order to save time and 
strength. The suggestion was tempting 
enough, as the hillside looked most inviting 
for such a toboggan slide, but he resisted 
nevertheless and succeeded in bringing the 
guide to abandon the idea. After the tiring 

243 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

descent they discovered to their horror that 
the alluring icy hill ended in a sixteen hun- 
dred foot precipice. 

The numerous rivers, which, at various 
places plunge down the vertical mountain 
crest into the sea from these fierce looking 
snow-fields, always betray their source by 
a cold, unpleasant vapor. 

One would think that the dales and small 
bits of cultivated land alongside the strand 
should have a harsh climate on account of 
the nearness to all these masses of ice and 
snow, but far from it. The cultivated and 
inhabited parts of Sognefjord and the adja- 
cent dales belong, like Hardanger, to Nor- 
way's mildest and most prolific districts. 
Apples, pears, plums, cherries, and other 
fruits of the most improved kind are in 
abundance. Also walnuts, hazel-nuts and 
chestnuts thrive and ripen here. The winter 
season is not severe, and the summer is 
warm, so the average temperature is about 
the same as Central Europe. It impresses 
244 



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A Thrilling Journey 

one as something supernatural, something 
fairy-like, to find such beautiful flora such 
close neighbors to eternal snow. 

As I proceeded on my way to Christiania, 
over the new railroad, the train was often at 
an elevation of fifteen hundred feet. Part 
of the time snow was piled up above the car 
windows, so that we passed through snow- 
tunnels as well as those cut in the solid rock. 
Then suddenly we would have a view of 
fertile, flowery valleys with rivers, streams 
and laughing brooks far below. Behind all 
this was a background of high mountains 
covered with pines which gave a weird and 
wonderful effect to the picture. The gran- 
deur of it all is far above any description. 

The large observation windows, extend- 
ing the entire length of the car, gave one a 
full panorama. On either side could be seen 
the granite giants towering majestically 
thousands of feet above the inviting valley 
below. Now a lonely streamlet flows along 
quiet and clear down a rocky morass. Now 

245 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

you are following a roaring waterfall from 
its dizzy height. Then again a rivulet 
bounds along merrily, on its way from some 
distant glacier into which the suns of many 
summers have never penetrated. And ever 
your eye is fascinated by the golden sun- 
beams dancing on the snowclad peaks. 

The Norwegian roadside fence is pecu- 
liar. It consists of large, flat stones set upon 
end a foot or two apart. As one sees them, 
often for many miles, they present a very 
unique appearance. 

What an Eldorado for those who enjoy 
fishing these lovely mountain streams must 
be, for trout, or the rivers for larger fish ! 
What would the people of Norway do if the 
supply of fish should ever become exhausted 
is the thought that arises. It is a curious 
sight to see the fish in immense quantities 
hang upon sticks or racks to dry. One sees 
hundreds of these racks as one passes 
through many of the beautiful fjords. 
Shrimp are very abundant and larger than 
246 



A Thrilling Journey 

I have ever seen in any other country, and 
on the coast lobsters are caught in large 
quantities, which are of a most delicious 
flavor. 

While mentioning eatables ; I must not 
forget the Norwegian cheese. I never saw 
nor tasted so many different kinds before. 
Unfortunately I disliked the taste as well as 
the looks of most of them. One kind, how- 
ever, I learned to enjoy very much indeed. 
It was made of goat's milk and called My- 
sost. It is chocolate in color and of a 
slightly sweet taste. I shall never fail to re- 
member one of those cheeses, not only by its 
uninviting Limberger odor, but from the 
startling attribute it possessed of being lit- 
erally alive! 

The tables of Norway are always most 
bountifully provided; cold meats and fish 
are always at hand wherever you go. All 
dishes are most beautifully garnished with 
great regard for artistic designs in colors, 
247 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

to make them attractive to the eye as well as 
tempting to the appetite. 

One early morning when I came down 
for breakfast, I asked if it was ready. I re- 
ceived the reply, that breakfast was always 
ready. I soon came to the conclusion that it 
was, for upon the table all the food was cold 
and if one needed anything warm you sim- 
ply had to wait until it was cooked. How- 
ever I soon learned to like the Norwegian 
cooking and service very much. 

The dress of the peasants is certainly pic- 
turesque, particularly their holiday attire. 
It is beautifully embroidered with silk and 
beads in the brightest possible hues. In 
some districts rather a pretty custom pre- 
vails by which a married woman can be dis- 
tinguished from the maidens by a peculiar 
kind of white headdress, much like the 
wings of a bat. The wedding ceremony is 
elaborately celebrated, the festivities lasting 
three days or more. The costumes of the 
groom and bride are very unique. Usually 
248 



A Thrilling Journey 

a very pretty little wedding token is given 
to the bride. It is often a hand-worked 
brooch of gold or silver filigree^ from which 
long and beautiful pendants hang. Each 
pendant indicates the value of the dower 
which may be so many cows, sheep, calves 
or reindeer, according to the wealth of the 
bride's parents. 

Outdoor amusements in the summer do 
not seem to be very numerous. Perhaps 
the reason is that the people have to work 
hard to secure their winter supplies, during 
the few weeks in which they can enjoy the 
warm sun's rays. 



249 



BACK IN CHRISTIANIA: 
A PICNIC 



CHAPTER XXV 

BACK IN CHRISTIANIA : A PICNIC 

IT seemed like coming home to be in 
Christiania again, especially as I was 
greeted at the station by a score or 
more of my Norwegian friends whom Fru 
H. had secretly gathered together to wel- 
come me back to the capital. It was cer- 
tainly a genuine surprise to me. Hardly 
had I stepped on the platform before I was 
encircled by a huge garland of wild flowers, 
and thus carried away to the waiting room. 
Here the mischievous gathering joined 
hands, and danced Indian fashion around 
their innocent victim singing uproariously 
a parody on the National Hymn: 

"Yes, we love with fond devotion, 
America's your name, 
Rising golden-casqued o'er ocean, 
Thousand hopes for fame." 

253 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

It was a wonder that we were not all 
dragged away to the dingy dungeons of the 
Fortress of Akershus by the railroad offi- 
cials, but instead they joined in the merry- 
making with loud bravos and hand clasps. 

Early the next morning Fru H., her two 
wards and half a dozen boisterous Norwe- 
gians marched up to my hotel, singing popu- 
lar songs and creating quite a sensation. 
Each carried a brightly painted Niste-Kurv 
(lunch box) on a cane over his shoulder. 

When the "American Lady" had dressed 
hurriedly, she was marched off to a little 
steamer which ran to a beautiful summer re- 
sort on an island about three hours' sail 
from Christiania. 

The woodclad hills adjoining the baths 
were already crowded with people, and 
looked to me like a great fairy-garden. As 
if sprung from the soil itself, flower-like 
beds of happy people were grouped about 
beneath the leafy trees. A garden of fancy! 
There they were in all conceivable posi- 

254 



Back in Christiania 

tions, whispering, chattering, laughing, 
singing and calling gay greetings to each 
other. Some affectionate couples, not able 
to wait for the moonlight drifted about 
hand in hand 1 shoulder to shoulder, head 
against head, playful and happy. 

How the sun shone! With what beaming 
splendor its dazzling rays illumined this 
Eden of cheerful youth! 

Fru H.'s two wards 2 Astrid and Aagot, 
could scarcely wait until the steamer had 
reached the pier before putting on their 
bathing-suits. The water seems to have a 
certain mystic, alluring power over Norwe- 
gians. They can hardly look at a roaring 
waterfall without feeling a strange yearning 
for its dangerous embrace and their fjords 
seem to exercise the same magic power. As- 
trid and Aagot soon were swimming about 
like fishes, and, after a while, were seen 
floating far out at sea, on a red barrel. The 
barrel was rocked up and down incessantly 
by the waves so that it was only at inter- 

255 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

vals that one could catch a glimpse of the 
girls' blue bathing caps. Their bright faces 
gleamed teasingly in a strange mermaidish 
way at the parties on the shore, as it might 
seem to an onlooker. 

Astride another barrel were two sturdy 
Norwegians of our party, Astrid's brother, 
Fritjof Moen, and his chum, Ole Anker. 
They were both well-known yachtsmen and 
golf champions, and not to mention other 
distinctions, were two handscme fellows, 
clever and plucky, blessed with frank blue 
eyes that met the world with a calm cour- 
age and intelligence. 

"Look out, girls 1" the boys were heard 
crying to our mermaids. 

"Look out yourselves, boys!" they replied, 
unafraid, swinging carelessly on the heav- 
ing waters. 

"Ah, there it comes!" in chorus from the 
masculine vantage point. "There's another 
big one! Pas pan piger!" (Look out girls!) 
256 



Back in Christiania 

A wave of the proportions of a moderate- 
sized house at this moment swept down up- 
on the barrel, and quickly and triumphantly 
removed the young girls from their seats. 
But they struck out fearlessly for shore, and, 
expert swimmers as they were, reached it in 
safety. 

In the meantime Fru H, had found an 
ideal spot for our camp, behind a big rock 
where a giant Norwegian spruce threw her 
sheltering branches tentlike around us. A 
couple of flat stones were brought, on which 
a fire was made, and soon the coffee kettle 
was filled with crystalline spring water and 
hung over it. Tablecloths were spread on 
the velvety ground and niste-kurvene un- 
packed. 

No sooner were we all comfortably set- 
tled around the cloth, than some of the 
young men at the resort began to make their 
way toward our sheltered spot, as though 
the boiling coffee-kettle exercised a mag- 
netic attraction stronger than the blue-green 
257 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

and rather ill-tcmpcrcd surf. The newcom- 
ers were all received with enthusiastic out- 
hursts, hearty handshakes and familiar slaps 
Oil the back. "Storarted!" (Bully!) "Hvor 
morsomtl" (Gee, this is find) "Det var bra 
dere horn!" (Mighty glad to see youl) and 
so on and so forth. If these niste-kurvc can 
stand the charge of such a regiment of hun- 
gry stomachs they are wonders, I thought. 
And wonders they proved, indeed. 

At the very start, the conversation gained 
a special interest in the introduction of a 
woman who was just coming into public 
notice. 

This lady had arrived in Christiania with 
a brand new religion, the infinite wonder of 
which was, that any one could acquire that 
most peculiar power, omniscience. She had 
given lectures on her sensational religion 
and the newspapers were filled with non- 
sense about her. She talked freely and in- 
terestingly, and her eloquence added beauty 
to beauty already possessed, as she spoke of 
258 



Back in Christiania 

the various places she, in her death-like 
sleeps, had visited. She also spoke of the 
various colors that surround us, and from 
which we might divine the character of a 
man, his future, and sueh information. 
Verily, it was a highly interesting religion, 
or whatever you choose to eall it, and we all 
had strange dreams or visions to relate to 
her, gathering around to ply her with ques- 
tions. 

The majority aeeepted the strange lady 
and her unique religion as a weleome diver- 
sion of (he season. Others, it is true, went a 
little beneath the surface, and, philoso- 
phized over the possible powers of this re- 
markable woman, but there was no fear of 
anyone losing his good humor, or peace of 
mind by such reflections. 

This people hold, with Solomon, that 
nothing under the sun is new. The Norwe- 
gian youth, bred and grown in the land of 
miracles, expects to witness something still 
more sensational to-morrow, and obviously 

259 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

considered it scarcely worth while to ex- 
pend too much force on this phenomenon. 

She was so very dignified that we all tried 
to behave the best we could as long as she 
honored our camp with her presence. Nev- 
ertheless we felt a breath of relief when the 
lady was out of sight. 

"Well, now, how do you like our smart 
Mecca, here?" I was asked by a girl from 
Bergen, who was slow in forming her ques- 
tion as she had to translate the words of her 
own language before she found the expres- 
sions she wished in English. 

"Do you really want to know?" I asked. 

The girl turned an inquiring face toward 
me: "Yes, tell me, please!" 

"Well, then," I said, glancing aside at a 
girl who was caressing a head of dark tan- 
gled hair which had placed itself uncere- 
moniously in her lap, "I think the game is 
hunting the hunter, on this charming hunt- 
ing-ground of yours." 

"Don't say that!" little Astrid exclaimed. 
260 



Back in Christiania 

"It isn't our fault, really. We simply have 
to lure the boys by the most audacious 
spooning to keep them from baseball, and 
other sports, where they leave us alone." 

Although young Astrid was very sincere 
in her information, an outburst of laughter 
followed. But another beauty put in her 
word: 

"Verily, yes. It is so. I don't know what's 
the matter with us, but as soon as we leave 
the town behind we simply can't help taking 
good care of a nice fellow when we see him. 
Maybe because nice fellows are so scare in 
Norway." 

"Oh, awfully scarce!" echoed the whole 
feminine crowd except Fru H., who was 
busy pouring out a dark-red liquor into 
small glasses. This home made drink tasted 
delicious, besides making the entire party 
very openhearted and talkative. 

"Yes," continued a pretty Christiania 
maiden with a large overgrown look. (She 
had not gone in bathing, and was rather 
261 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

showily dressed for an outing.) "Yes, we 
do enjoy doing odd things down here, that's 
true; but I think it is because we have to 
be so straight-laced in town that we look 
for some sort of relief, and perhaps go to 
the opposite extreme when roaming on the 
shores or in the woods." 

As I looked at her, I thought she did not 
prove her opinion by her dressing, and 
wished that the sun could have been able to 
take a better peep at her soft white neck. 

They all talked at once, each trying to 
outdo the other. When they found me un- 
able to understand, or were themselves un- 
able to express their views in English, they 
tried a smattering of various languages and 
galloped on. 

"Some old fashioned people think this 
place too gay during the bathing season. 
My parents, for instance, have taken a de- 
cided stand against moonlight walking in 
the woods, so I shall have to say bye-bye to 
that innocent pleasure," assured another 
262 



Back in Christiania 

mermaid, returning from a successful dive 
from a high rock. 

"My!" exclaimed Ole Anker, who was 
following at the girl's heels, his bathing 
suit clinging to his heroic limbs, "You will 
find that hard to obey." 

Fritjof lazily arose on his elbow to re- 
fill his pipe: "You women are becoming 
more and more bold since you got that suf- 
frage of yours, confound it!" He finished 
his sentence with a teasing wink in his bright 
eyes, as he threw his head back into Aagot's 
lap and began to puff his meerschaum with 
increased delight. 

Aagot boxed his ears not too tenderly, 
and said to me in a comical whisper, "You 
see, a Norwegian girl tries harder to please 
her lover and make him comfortable than 
he does her. It isn't so in America, is it?" 

"No indeed/' I assured her, "quite the 
contrary." 

"You are wrong, Aagot," said Fru H. cor- 
263 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

recting her. "I don't want you to give our 
guest a false idea of the relation between 
Norwegian men and women." 

"Right!" yelled Ole Anker! 

"Right," echoed the voice from Aagot's 
lap. 

"No," continued Fru H., "it is not that 
the girls try harder to please the boys than 
the boys do them, but the girls expect more 
of the boys than the boys of their girls." 

"The same with us," I agreed. 

A landscape painter, who until now had 
kept to himself, thought that his time to put 
in a word or two was at hand. 

"This point is clear," he said, "a woman is 
more exacting; she demands more fuss, and 
is as a rule far more tyrannical than a man. 
I speak about our girls, of course." 

"Well, I wonder where you got that 
knowledge from?" Fru H. exclaimed. 

The girl from Bergen raised her eye- 
brows at the painter's view. "I know one 
thing," she began, "and that is, there are 
264 



Back in Christiania 

more men who are tyrannical and indiffer- 
ent to their sweethearts, than there are girls 
who are faithless to their lovers." 

"Stop right there!" commanded Fru H. 
with mock-sternness at the girl, though her 
face was one pleasant smile. "Now Dr. 
Storm," she said, turning toward the oldest 
member of our party, "what's your opin- 
ion?" 

"My opinion is," the doctor replied with 
a broad grin, "that you young ladies are 
giving us so much to think about that we all 
are losing weight over it. Now as to the 
first subject, our glorious free life frolics — 
isn't the reason for all this freedom to be 
found in the fact that God's own nature 
makes real human beings out of us all? As 
for the other 'beau and belles' question, I 
think after all that it isn't so much what 
those two people do, but more what they 
don't do, that makes or mars their happi- 
ness, and gives real value to their compan- 
ionship." 

265 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

While Fru H. poured more of her tempt- 
ing liquor into our glasses and proposed a 
toast for the doctor^ some of the pretty chat- 
terers disagreed loudly about his definition 
and wouldn't drink to his health. Others 
thought his opinion too involved and not to 
the point. However, as soon as Fru H. 
lifted her glass, commanding "Stilhed!" 
(Silence), they all joined heartily in a 
"long live the doctor" with the customary 
nine roaring Norwegian hurrahs. 

Fru H. tried to turn the conversation but 
was interrupted by the girl from Bergen. 

"The Norwegian men," she began, "take 
no pride in clothes either^ and that's a seri- 
ous fault with them. Yes it is! Look at the 
Americans who visit our shores! They love 
to dress well and to look like gentlemen, 
whether they are or not. But our men, dear 
me, they are a sight!" 

"What do you think, Astrid?" asked Ole 
Anker, who had just returned to the camp 
after another refreshing dive. 

266 



Back in Christiania 

"Of what?" Astrid inquired. 

"Of me, of course!" exclaimed the youth, 
as he threw himself down beside her. 

"Yes," urged the doctor, interested, "what 
do you think, not of Ole Anker, but of our 
young men of to-day?" 

The girl hesitated and seemed somewhat 
embarrassed, though she tried to look indif- 
ferent as she at last answered with a twinkle 
in her pretty blue eyes: 

"I don't know exactly how to express it, 
but it seems to me that the boys are growing 
bashful in everything but baseball in the 
summer and ski matches in the winter. I 
have met lots of fellows who would blush at 
the mere thought of speaking to a girl even 
after they were introduced by the girl's 
mother." 

Ole Anker glanced at her face and then 
looked quickly away. 

The others laughed. 

The girl from Bergen continued her talk 
about clothes: 

267 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

"A young unmarried fellow, may dress 
up a little bit once in a while, but have any 
of you girls ever seen a Norwegian husband 
dressing up for his wife? Mighty, mighty 
few, I dare say I" 

Chorus: "Mighty, mighty few!" 

Fru H. apparently did not like the char- 
acter of the conversation nor the careless 
positions of her wards, but she tried to make 
the best of it in order not to spoil their plea- 
sures, which after all were harmless enough. 
After thinking for a while she said: 

"No use talking, man is a very selfish and 
stupid type of animal. Yes, yes, you are! 
You simply take a woman's care, and love, 
and dressing, her smiles, and her dancing 
about, and all her tenderness as a matter of 
course. Those strange creatures called men 
take it for granted that in accepting them, 
we have all the world can bless us with, all 1 
that the most exacting woman on earth 
could possibly wish for, and therefore, the 
268 



Back in Christiania 

stupid mopes think themselves wonders, 
clothes or no clothes." 

The doctor turned his head a little in or- 
der to be able to look into her face. 

"I wonder/' he said quietly, his features 
relaxing into a singularly attractive smile, 
"what form the opposite of goodness would 
take in you, Fru H? I know you are good 
and clever and all that, so I ask: were you 
ever thoroughly angry?" 

We all laughed at the doctor's serious 
voice and expression. 

While some of us were ready for another 
cup of coffee, Fritjof and Ole Anker fol- 
lowed by two other young men rushed out 
of the camp and began to turn somersaults 
and leap frantically about on the sands as 
they approached the seething sea. A storm 
had risen and the water looked more like the 
ocean in uproar than a Norwegian fjord. 

Heaven knows by what rare chance they 
found their legs again, but still they pressed 
on, projecting their bodies into the wrath- 
269 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

ful water, and disappearing for a moment 
amidst the big billows. Then 2 coming into 
view again, they straightened themselves 
out on the bottom i there to meet the largest 
of the gigantic waves which the next instant 
tumbled with its mass of foam across their 
lithe young forms. 

Astrid and Aagot had gone to the brink 
of the fjord, and standing there with pink 
cheeks and eyes in which the light of quick 
appreciation shone, they appeared to me 
like companions of some great vigil. 

When the boys had again encamped 
around the apprehensive watchers, they 
found a certain chilliness in the air, which 
prompted the companions to tackle Fritjof's 
hammer, a club like affair^ which was hid- 
den away in a crevice. This desire to warm 
up gave rise to a friendly tussle, since Frit- 
jof and Ole were each resolved to swing the 
missile first. And so they tugged and tugged 
at opposite ends of the hammer till they 
both rolled barrel-like down the strand, 
270 



Back in Christiania 

with the awkwardness of a pair of frisky 
cubs. Only the intervention of Astrid 
could bring the tug-of-war to an end, and 
this to the advantage of Ole, who took the 
crude implement between both hands and 
began to swing it round his head four or 
five times before making the professional 
"turn," whereupon the hammer flew 
through the air, landing a fair distance 
away on the sand. 

The other youth then tried his skill. 
Naturally they competed against each other, 
Astrid and Aagot gazing at the contest with 
a keener interest than the rest of the party, 
and awaiting the result with impatient ea- 
gerness. They acted as judges, too, and like 
well-trained officials decided with skill and 
precision any dispute that arose between the 
contestants. 

After the combat we were again ready for 
a new meal, which was accompanied by 
more talks about the men and women of 
Norway. 

271 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

One young girl wearing a stylish bathing 
suit of brown silk made a charming picture. 

"I know a girl," she began, "who, last 
fall, married a wealthy mill owner. She 
lives in a magnificent house with a lot of 
servants. Her millionaire husband is ab- 
sorbed in business and horse races, baseball 
games and other folish things and can't af- 
ford to spend much time at home, so she has 
almost forgotten what her husband looks 
like. If it should happen that he entered 
his home before daybreak he would busy 
himself the rest of the night in trying to 
solve the problem why his little wife was not 
perfectly happy." 

In the conversation now joined an ex- 
quisite, fairy-like creature from Trond- 
hjem, with her nose turned up in a wonder- 
ful insouciant fashion, her lips like a thick 
scarlet dash, her eyes big, gray and lazy. 
This Norwegian fairy said : 

"I'll tell you what kind of a husband I 
admire." 

272 



Back in Christiania 

We were all willing to listen. 

"I like that kind of a man who looks upon 
a woman with awe as a divinity. Such men 
are good husbands and good fellows all 
around. They may be brutes in their busi- 
ness, but they are angels in their homes, 
where their wives can wrap them around 
their fingers if they choose. They are the 
only really eligible men worth speaking 
about, and the only ones who understand 
how to dig the road to a blisful and ever- 
lasting happiness in married life." 

She crossed her legs and fell down on her 
elbows not unlike a lazy-bodied boy. 

"That's the stuff !" was the united femi- 
nine response. 

Her neighbors playfully shook hands 
with the blushing girl, and a little lass who 
had a face overflowing with mirth — the face 
of a mischievous lad — cried out: 

"Print it, boys, and send it straight to 
King Haakon for his sanction." 

273 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

This little lassie was the daughter of a 
dealer in furs. She proved herself to be a 
clever little nymph and her peculiar poses 
were very charming. But those daughters 
of Eve were all fascinating and delightful 
in their garden of freedom. 

Ole Anker couldn't keep his thoughts to 
himself any longer, and so he arose with : 

"Shall I tell you girlies what kind of a 
husband you are looking for?" 

"Oh, please!" 

"Oh, do! 

"Oh, yes!" Thus ran the chorus around 
the fire. 

"An American!" he shouted. 

"An American?" They all repeated at 
once. 

"Yes, girls, you can hardly find him any- 
where else than on the top of a skyscraper." 

"Oh— oh— !" 

"Stilhed!" demanded Fru H. "Go 
ahead, Ole, bring us your man?" 
274 



Back in Christiania 

"You certainly shall have him," said the 
fearless youth. 

"You want a man who, in one person, is 
as gentle as a newly born lamb and as fierce 
as a starved lion; romantic as a moonlight 
poet and as matter-of-fact as a successful 
broker; a man who can make money quickly 
and spend it at a flash on his wife, and who 
can make more money and still more. Every 
morning when he leaves and every night 
when he returns he must be sure to tell his 
wife how much he loves her. You want a 
man who is as stupid as a cod-fish and as 
clever as a trust-lawyer; a man who sees 
with his wife's eyes, hears with her ears, 
tastes with her tongue, and who hates all 
women but his own little darling. That's 
the man a suffragette girl of to-day wants, 
but can't get in Norway!" 

An indescribable uproar followed this 
plain speech by our undaunted friend. Al- 
though the other men of our party took his 
part and tried hard to defend him, he was 
275 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

at last carried away to a rock and tossed into 
the cooling waves by feminine hands — a 
punishment he didn't seem to mind, after 
all. 

A more serious conversation followed, 
and after a while Fru H. was asked to de- 
fine the word "love." 

"Love," said she 2 "is a very peculiar sen- 
sation, and I fear not easy to describe. Love 
is a force of goodness, of happiness and for- 
bearance, a force which lies deeper in our 
soul than words can ever reach. Love is a 
power which makes our hearts beat in an 
unconscious eagerness to do good, to be help- 
ful to others, to understand and to feel the 
desires of our fellowmen. It is love that 
makes a man ready to sacrifice himself for 
his brethren and to take part in their work, 
hopes, sorrows, joys. If a man is unable to 
give his mite, he can at least give his en- 
couragement, a word of understanding. 
This I think is just a little morsel of what 
is hidden in that marvelous word called 
276 



Back in Christiania 

love. Love one another. If we really made 
up our minds to use this powerful soul vi- 
bration in dealing with each other we 
should soon discover that our neighbor also 
possessed a similar wonderful apparatus in 
his being." 

Astrid, though she had listened, seeming- 
ly interested^ to Fru H.'s definition of love, 
had her eyes fastened on the little girl from 
Trondhjem, who, tired of the serious con- 
versation, had sneaked away from the camp, 
and ventured out into the fjord. Astrid, 
who knew the girl to be an inexperienced 
swimmer, thought her race with the waves 
foolhardy and had kept an eye on her at- 
tempts. Fru H. had scarcely ended her 
improvised lecture before a cry of help 
reached us from the water, and in the same 
instant the swimming girl was buried in a 
mass of foaming water. But Astrid, whose 
experienced eyes had already caught sight 
of the danger from an approaching wave, 
had dashed to the rescue and reached the 
277 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

water's edge before the cry for help had 
sounded. With amazing intrepidity and 
presence of mind she dragged the girl from 
death's cold embrace. And so quick was 
she, that the swimmer was out of danger be- 
fore the boys, awakened to action by the 
cry, had reached the water. However, it 
didn't take them long to overtake Astrid, 
who with her heavy burden was working 
and fighting her way through the angry wa- 
ters. 

"Astrid saved her life before we could 
draw a breath!" exclaimed the boys, as soon 
as the unsuccessful swimmer was declared 
none the worse for her experience by the 
doctor. 

Again we had a- splendid excuse for mak- 
ing another kettle of coffee and for drinking 
several toasts in Fru H.'s delicious bever- 
age, and we didn't miss one of them. 

"That was bravely done, Astrid!" Ole 
Anker burst out again and again, impetu- 
ously clasping her hands in his. "There's 
278 



Back in Christiania 

no knowing what would have happened to 
the poor girl if you hadn't rushed in as you 
did. I never saw anything like it." It was 
touching to look at the boy and to see the 
love for the girl in his eyes, as he stood 
there beside me, holding the girl's hands 
as though they were the only pair present. 

"Don't think any more of it," said the girl 
to him and to all of us who tried to express 
our admiration. "Any girl who under- 
stands how to swim and dive would have 
done the same thing." 

The girl was entirely unconscious of any 
heroism whatsoever, and was anxious to 
make her escape from all the people now 
streaming up to our camp, eager to see the 
brave girl, and to drink her health in coffee 
or whatever they could get hold of. 

After the whole crowd have been feasting 
for an hour or more Fritjof and Ole began 
to play leap frog, in which they indulged 
in all sorts of jumps and somersaults. Spec- 
tators were not long in joining the sport, but 
279 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

none of them could compare with Fritjof 
in this peculiar game. 

The full moon was scattering a dazzling 
array of beams across the sea and out upon 
the blue-white strand. Playfully, those sil- 
ver bars of light danced upon the bodies of 
the young athletes, who were untiring in 
their efforts. 

At last we were forced to leave this mem- 
orable spot in order to catch the last boat; 
but the merrymaking continued on the deck 
where a dance to the tune of a handorgan 
held full swing until the boat cast anchor 
in the harbor of Christiania, 



280 



NORWEGIAN YOUTH: 
A BOAT-RACE CELEBRATION 



CHAPTER XXVI 

NORWEGIAN YOUTH : A BOAT-RACE 
CELEBRATION 

A WEEK after the picnic, I was invit- 
ed to take in a boat-race celebra- 
tion at the summer residence of Fru 
H.'s sister, Fru Anker, the hospitable 
mother of Ole Anker. 

Round about the large villa, whose bril- 
liant lights, streaming from every window, 
looked magnificent in the dark night, ran 
a delightful broad piazza. This comfort- 
able place was to-night occupied by young 
people "hammocked," or seated in groups 
with their coffee cups, dispensing smiles 
and compliments to each other. The great 
occasion for all this jubilation was a tele- 
gram announcing the victory of Ole An- 
ker's boat. 

283 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

A bonfire was burning on the strand in 
front of the house, its dancing flames fling- 
ing their light far over the heaving waters. 
Around it in an easy posture, lay other girls 
and boys, eating sandwiches, drinking cof- 
fee, smoking cigarettes, puffing pipes and 
chatting contentedly in a mood of reckless 
joy. All were very happy because of Ole's 
victory. 

Fru Anker 2 ever jovial, ever with a laugh 
in her eye^ ran down to the young people on 
the beach, her arms full of fireworks. 

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" they all cried, sur- 
rounding her, as happiest of the happy, she 
delivered the fireworks to the exuberant 
army of vigorous young hands. At last, 
overwhelmed as they pressed in upon her, 
she dropped the whole store upon the beach 
with hearty laughter. Like rapacious wolves 
they pounced upon the combustibles and 
Piff! Pouff! Bang! Crack! went the crack- 
ers, Roman candles, pin-wheels, and flower- 
pots, all together. It was rather perilous 
284 



Norwegian Youth 

sport, Ole's big-hearted mother thought, yet 
she laughed and shouted up to her coffee- 
drinking guests on the piazza. 

"My boy finished first! Ole won the 
race! Hurrah! Hurrah!" And with more 
eagerness than caution she managed to get 
hold of one of the rockets, which she soon 
put a match to and shot out across the sea: 
"Hurrah for gutten mint" (Hurrah for my 
boy.) 

"Hurrah!" every one around her echoed. 

As she stood there with the burning torch 
held firmly in her hand, she might have 
been taken for the very goddess of celebra- 
tion. 

Many guests had been invited but still 
more came uninvited, and were just as wel- 
come as the former. The joy of the victory 
had also demoralized the servants of the 
house, who unceremoniously took the night 
off, considering such a procedure a matter 
of course. They now mingled freely with 
285 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

the guests, lending a hand to the festivities 
now and then like the rest. 

"Hurrah!" came suddenly from a big fir 
tree in front of the house. Everybody looked 
up, and in the light of the big fire on the 
beach, Beret, the cook was seen sitting on a 
branch of the giant tree. 

"Rah! Rah! Rah!" the guests replied, 
very much amused at the sight of the fat 
woman swaying on the branch. 

"Rah! Rah! Rah! for Norway!" Astrid 
yelled from the shore. 

"Rah! Rah! Rah!" resounded like a thou- 
sand-tongued echo, while rockets and other 
fireworks flew into the air by scores. 

"God bless Norway!" Ole's white-haired 
grandmother cried from her seat on the 
piazza. 

From a huge tent, raised on a rock above 
the house, a band sounded forth "Yes, we 
love this country." Instantly this melody 
was in the mouths of all, ringing over the 
land and out across the sea. 
286 



Norwegian Youth 

As soon as the beloved song was finished 
the whole party, servants included, went up 
to the dancing tent. Hand in hand, in pairs 
or small groups, enveloped by the spirit of 
friendship, the guests drifted on, singing 
and humming national airs. 

After an hour of enjoyable dancing, a 
light supper was served on the lawn which 
was lighted by dozens of tall flower-deco- 
rated torches, which gave a touch of mystic 
splendor to the scene. 

We were all compelled to add our share 
to the entertainment. Some told stories or 
sang; others gave witty or comical speeches, 
and others again recited poems or scenes 
from famous plays. First I was forced to 
tell something about America, and next to 
give my true opinion of Norway. This I 
was fortunate enough to express in Profes- 
sor Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen's words, a na- 
tive of Norway. Although married to an 
American lady and spending almost his en- 
tire life in America, he was nevertheless a 
287 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

good Norwegian, and it pleased the gather- 
ing to listen to the painting of his native 
land which I could make my own. 

"NORWAY 

"Winter has its icy crown 
Pressed round Norway's temples hoary, 
Midnight sun has showered down 
On her head its glory. 

"Time's swift waves their power broke 
'Gainst her ancient rocks and bowlders, 
And the sea its misty cloak 
Flung around her shoulders. 

"But when easeful Summer sinks 
O'er the gleaming fjords and valleys, 
Bursts the wood-lake's wintry links 
And the lily's chalice — 

"Oh, what throbbing life aglow! 
Oh, how fair the birch and willow, 
And the gulls that drift like snow 
O'er rippling billow. 
288 



Norwegian Youth 

'Giant-like the glacier looms, 
Seaward throws its branches mazy; 
And on winter's bosom blooms 
Fearlessly the daisy. 

'ho! the wild, bright peaks that shine 
Through the clouds that veil their bosom 
At whose foot, mid birch and pine, 
Fragile lilies blossom! 

'Here it was where Frith jo f gay 
Wooed King Bele's fair-haired daughter, 
Here she sang the sweet, sad lay 
Which her love had taught her. 

'Hence those vikings sprung whose sword 
Waked the South from idle dalliance, 
Who in Vineland's rivers moored 
Dauntlessly their galleons. 

'Now, alas that age hath fled, 
Fled the spirit that upbore it, 
Ah, hut still doth midnight shed 
Flaming splendor o'er it. 
289 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

'And the fame which curbed the sea, 
Spanned the sky with runes of fire, 
Now but rustles tremblingly 
Through the poefs lyre." 



290 



AT THE NATIONAL THEATRE: 

"A DOLL'S HOUSE" AND 

"PEER GYNT" 







r ^ 






h. 



CHAPTER XXVII 

AT THE NATIONAL THEATRE: "A DOLL'S 
HOUSE" AND "PEER GYNT" 

THE season of the Christiania Nation- 
al Theatre begins the latter part 
of August^ and the first two weeks 
are devoted to a festival of Ibsen's and 
Bjornson's plays. 

As I did not yet understand the language 
of the country I selected from the week's 
repertoire two plays by Ibsen that I had al- 
ready seen in America, "A Doll's House" 
and "Peer Gynt." In the first I had pre- 
viously seen the Russian actress, Mile. 
Nazimova as Nora, and in the latter play 
admired the late Mr. Mansfield as "Peer 
Gynt." I was anxious indeed to see the 
Norwegian Peer Gynt and to compare him 
with the American interpretation of the 

293 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

same part, but was still more anxious to 
make the acquaintance of Fru Dybwad, the 
Scandinavian Duse, as she is fondly called 
by the Norwegians. 

The National Theatre is a beauiful struc- 
ture and compares favorably with one in 
the American metropolis, though smaller 
and more homelike. The staging of "A 
Doll's House" (Et Dukkehjem) and the 
interior was quite different from what I 
have seen in New York. Here at the Chris- 
tiania National Theatre, the drawing room 
scene was big and aristocratically furnished 
in rich solid furniture. So different was this 
setting from the poor little room in which 
the Nazimova version of the play was ren- 
dered, that I involuntarily took a glance at 
my program, afraid that "Et Dugkehjem" 
was not "A Doll's House" after all. But it 
was, though not a pleasing melodramatic 
farce as Nazimova's charming version in- 
dicated, but rather a touching drama with 
various episodes of comic relief, to lighten 
294 



At the National Theatre 

the depressing but intensely interesting tale. 

My delightful impression of Nazimova's 
make-up was that of a Nurnberger-doll, 
and her portrayal of Nora lingered in my 
memory as that of a spoiled, thoughtless lit- 
tle girl who all of a sudden becomes cross 
and in her anger and disappointment sud- 
denly begins to talk like an overgrown 
"wunder kind." As a climax she leaves the 
room, wisely-stupid, slamming the door be- 
hind her. It was all so charmingly doll-like, 
that I thought it quite wonderful. This was 
my long cherished impression of Nora and 
the play, as given by the Russian actress. 
But Fru Dybwadj the Norwegian exponent 
of the part, mercilessly destroyed my idol 
almost at her first entrance upon the stage. 

Quietly but becomingly and tastefully 
dressed in a gray suit of walking length, she 
entered the stage chirping happily, with her 
arms loaded with parcels containing Christ- 
mas surprises for her dear ones. Although 
her small feet scarcely touched the floor 

295 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

and though her eyes fairly sparkled from 
inborn childish mirth, there was neverthe- 
less something mature about her. A certain 
mother-bird alertness that indicated strong- 
er than spoken words that something new 
and big was germinating in the woman's 
soul, something that could ripen and break 
out without warning. This foreshadowing 
of a great event was indicated with such a 
gift of tense and true emotion that her 
change in a day from a child-wife into a full 
grown woman seemed not only possible but 
entirely natural. When this Nora leaves 
her home, husband and children, banging 
the door behind her, not one in the audience 
can be in doubt as to whether she returns 
or not. I doubt if any spectator could be 
found who would wish her to come back 
and take up her wifely duties. One feels 
that a greater and far more significant duty 
is awaiting this woman. Her soul has out- 
grown Mr. Egotist's "Doll's House" — not 
296 




Fru Johanne Dybzvad, as Maria in Bjomson's 
Drama "Paa Storhove." {"At Storhove.") 



At the National Theatre 

in a night or two, but in years of quiet, si- 
lent growth. 

Nora, as created by Ibsen and portrayed 
by Fru Dybwad, seems to me more a symbol 
than a type. She is a bearer of a glorious 
message to woman, a message the women of 
Norway, through long years of suffering 
and severe struggle, have made to come true. 
There is no actress on the American stage 
to-day, in my opinion, who could equal Fru 
Dybwad's performance of this part, with 
its impassioned oratory, in the last great 
scene of the drama, and its tremendous ef- 
fect of emotional sincerity. 

"Peer Gynt" on the other hand, was a 
disappointment to me. I had entered the 
theatre with a just expectation of seeing a 
bit of Norway composed of music and 
drama passing in review, but nothing of the 
kind occurred. In "Peer Gynt/' Ibsen in- 
deed has given the Norwegian painters, ac- 
tors and stage managers something to put 
297 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

their very souls into^ but though he gave 
them "champagne, they tasted it not." 

The sceneries were all very pleasing, 
many beautiful, but without that effect of 
grandeur or originality either in choice of 
motive or in color scheme that one might 
have expected. There were at least two 
most glorious settings in Mr. Mansfield's 
production of the poem, but not a single set- 
ting at this theatre displayed anything un- 
usual. The only part that came up to my ex- 
pectations was Grieg's incidental music to 
the drama, rendered with much skill and 
taste by a small orchestra. 

Herr Christensen^ as "Peer Gynt," was 
sympathetic and looked well, playing in a 
key of natural boyishness; but unlike Fru 
Dybwad in "A Doll's House," he selfishly 
kept the character's inner life all to himself. 
Never for a moment did he by voice or ges- 
ture allow the slightest peep into this 
strange hero's wonderful imagination. The 
reason for Peer Gynt's peculiar yearning, 
298 



At the National Theatre 

self-delusion and egotism, as well as his 
childish love and whimsical ideas, was not 
for a moment even suggested by this actor. 
He, grown of the same soil as his hero, and 
nursed by the same tale 2 should be expected 
to give a most interesting and true interpre- 
tation of this remarkable character. Poor 
staging and artificial acting throughout the 
whole play gave me an impression as of a 
marionette performance. 

Although less youthful and fresh than the 
Norwegian actor, Mr. Mansfield by his 
great acting displayed in innumerable little 
ways parts of a complex but highly interest- 
ing human machine. 

I received after all a better understanding 
of this remarkable poem at a recital given in 
Berlin by a Norwegian reade^ Herr Ole 
Bang, some time ago. From his reading I 
received an atmosphere, so to speak, which 
the combined efforts of make-up, scenery, 
and acting failed to convey. Although his 
language was strange to his audience, with 
299 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

the exception of a few explanatory notes in 
German, he lifted them by force of a charm- 
ing personality out of the hall into his own 
powerful imagination. With an art entire- 
ly unique, he carried plot, incident and 
characters through the varying moods of his 
interpretation, making the auditors read the 
lines from his flexible voice, and respond 
to the delicate expressions of a very charm- 
ing and illuminating art. 



300 



THE NORWEGIAN WINTER: 
AN EXCITING SKI-MATCH 




Winter in Norway. 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

THE NORWEGIAN WINTER : AN EXCITING 
SKI-MATCH 

THAT tourist or sportsman who never 
saw the Norwegian winter arrayed 
in all its glory, has missed one of 
the most splendid sights that could ever 
greet a lover of out-door life. 

Surely many of my countrymen have 
brought home with them from the smiling 
lakes, the glittering fjords and the majesti- 
cal mountains of Norway, a lasting impres- 
sion of summertime, and the magical 
changes from the most inclement wildness 
to the most charming lowland scenery. But 
how many know the enchanting charm of 
the Norwegian winter? 

With a buoyant flourish of trumpets the 
advancing northland princess is heralded by 

303 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

the luminous pages with their shimmering 
crystal mantles blowing in the breeze. This 
is the signal for tourists to hurriedly bid 
Norway good-bye, and rush southward to 
more hospitable regions. But this flourish 
of trumpets does not frighten the natives. 
All Norwegians love their snow. It light- 
ens the dark days and brightens the melan- 
choly disposition of the people. It clothes 
the whole country in white shining gar- 
ments; it smoothes down the coarse colors. 
It covers the impassable gulfs and appall- 
ing precipices, and creates harmony among 
old and young, bringing with it the soft 
wavy lines of landscape so beloved by every 
Norseman. 

Instead of being feared, the winter is wel- 
comed, and instead of being dormant, the 
people wake up to new hopes, new duties 
and new pleasures. The enjoyable but ra- 
ther tricky skis, so very difficult for an in- 
experienced person to manoeuvre, are heard 
rattling on the snow and whistling through 

304 



,& 








King Haakon on Ski. 



The Norwegian Winter 

the air like the rush of mighty wings. This 
thrilling sport is most fascinating when one 
knows how, but till then^ it is quite the con- 
trary, if one's neck, arms and limbs are not 
made of indiarubber. On the glassy fjords 
and lakes the skates are ringing, while sleds 
in hundreds hurry down hills and mountain- 
sides at breakneck speed. 

The famous Holmenkoll ski contest is 
Norway's greatest sporting event, and the 
natives are justified in their pride of this 
great winter fete. This annual national 
meeting is not merely held as a standard 
for ability — because no nation has attempt- 
ed, as yet, to challenge Norway's first rank 
in this peculiar sport, but just as certainly as 
this ski-sport has sprung out from the soul 
of the people, their very tradition, just so 
sure it is that the Holmenkoll match is 
looked upon by every Norwegian as a na- 
tional holiday. The Holmenkoll event has 
become the Scandinavian Olympic games. 
Holmenkolldagen (the day of the Holmen- 

305 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

koll-meeting) is a national holiday; the 
schools are closedj as well as the stores and 
offices. 

Like a colossal human horseshoe the 
masses stand on platforms shoulder to shoul- 
der alongside the mountain sides to view the 
exciting spectacle. The ever beloved King 
and Queen are always present and so are 
their ministers, foreign ambassadors and all 
the influential people of the whole land. 
Tourists and representatives of the press 
and sporting world add a European atmos- 
phere to the game. The snow may drift, 
covering the thousands and thousands of 
heads stretching eagerly outward, and the 
severe cold may beat mercilessly on ears, 
and noses, yet not a single discontented face 
can be found among them all. All is har- 
mony; and buoyant laughter is heard from 
the beginning to the end. 

Hoplobet (The Leap-Match) is the an- 
xiously awaited climax to the game, and it 
is sure to arouse intense admiration and en- 
306 



The Norwegian Winter 

thusiasm. It is difficult, not to say impos- 
sible, for those who haven't had the rare 
privilege to witness those Norwegian dare- 
devils take the sky-scraper leap, reaching 
the earth from their heavenward flight in a 
graceful curve one hundred feet below, to 
imagine the thrill and the beauty of this ap- 
palling sight. How they manage to jump 
down from such a height with those long, 
awkward affairs on their feet without 
breaking their necks was indeed a miracle to 
me. Of course they are not all successful — 
far from it — and a somersault in the air is 
followed by both a comical and terrifying 
snow burial. 

But as a rule few serious accidents occur. 
It is easy to understand that courage, 
strength and nerve are the chief qualities 
demanded in such a hazardous game, and 
this yearly ski-running match is therefore 
necessarily of much value to the youth of 
Norway. 

Even on Sundays and holidays, when 

307 



The Land of the Midnight Sun 

people of all classes are streaming up to 
Christiania's ski-realm, beautiful Nord- 
marken, that lies so refreshingly white and 
pure above the city's fog and smoke, it is 
not an unusual sight to see King Haakon 
with Queen Maud and Crownprince Olav 
enjoying themselves in the midst of their 
loyal subjects. Love and reverence for their 
democratic and righteous rulers are easily 
to be read in robust and delicate faces alike, 
and although the people try to show grace 
and modesty it is visibly difficult for most of 
the participants to keep their true, faithful 
hearts from demonstrative outbursts, but 
knowing the wish of their rulers to be 
looked upon as comrades, they restrain their 
feelings as much as a Norwegian royalist 
can from a loud royal "Hurrah!" 




Queen Maud and Croivnprince Olav on Ski. 



DEC 16 



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